Scott Summers: Murderer?
by stAte
Summary: Duncan has been found dead in the Xavier Institute and all the evidence points to Scott as the culprit. Now it falls on the X-Men to prove his innocence, but first they must answer one important question. Is he even innocent at all?
1. Boiling Points

Scott Summers: Murderer?

Summary: When Scott is accused of a grisly murder, it falls on the X-Men to prove his innocence. But first they must answer one important question. Is he even innocent at all?

Disclaimer: You know the drill. I own nothing.

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A/N: Hey folks. This is my 2nd fanfic. I hope you enjoy it! Its set during Season 1, but time will pass eventually. New Mutants fans, keep reading! Your favorites will appear later on. This fic is a bit of a mystery so good luck figuring it out! I will not be giving any hints outside of what is found in the text itself, so don't ask. This is based loosely on Bruce Wayne: Murderer?, a recent run in the Batman comics. I won't be following that storyline exactly though so if you've read the comics you will still find many surprises here. Just don't complain when something seems familiar. If you like my story, tell your friends! I want as many people to read this as possible. Finally, please review if you would be so kind. That's all the pay I get for all this work so please, please review. I will love you if you do. lol.

So that's it. Enjoy Scott Summers: Murderer?

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Two tests down and one more to go and then school would be over for the day. Just how teachers managed to all plan their tests for the same day was something that Scott Summers would never understand. As he walked down the bright hallway to his next test, business law, Scott heard his name called by a familiar voice from behind him. He turned and grinned at his friend as Kurt caught up with him.

"Hey Kurt, what's up?"

"Not much," said the boy in his strong German accent. "Juzt on my vay to English. Did you hear about vhat happened to Mr. Gompers?"

Mr. Gompers was the man who taught Kurt and Evan's chemistry class. Scott knew that he wasn't exactly a popular teacher.

"No, what happened?" asked Scott as they both turned and started walking down the hallway together.

"Hiz uncle died," said Kurt, "apparently his very rich uncle! Mr. Gompers is inheriting a vortune vrom him and retiring after the semester!"

"Wow! Lucky for him. So who's gonna teach your class after Christmas break then?" asked Scott.

"Don't know. Mr. Gompers zaid they've already hired zomeone but he couldn't remember ze name."

"Well, maybe he'll be better than Gompers was. I had him last year and it's impossible to stay awake in that class!"

"No kidding!" said Kurt with a large grin. "Vell, zis is my class. See ya later!" Kurt waved at Scott with a huge grin and turned into the classroom.

Scott waved back and then continued walking. He didn't have to go far before he had made it to his business law class. He stopped at the door and sighed before going in. All they studied in this class was what constitutes a felony or a misdemeanor and what the punishments are for all the laws. It had sounded interesting when he signed up, but after a couple months Scott was already tired of it. He tried not to use the old cliché often, but he really had no idea when he would use all this stuff! Finally he lifted his chin up and stepped into the classroom. His teacher handed him the test immediately and pointed him to his desk. He glanced at the clock. Just one hour left and then he could go home.

*****

The next morning, the X-Men groaned as they climbed the stairs into the regular part of the mansion. They had just finished a grueling Danger Room session that had left them exhausted. Unfortunately, things weren't about to get better. School would start in one hour which meant there would be a mad rush to the bathrooms and everyone would then rush to school and barely make it in time.

Scott showered and got dressed quickly, then headed downstairs for a quick breakfast. Jean was already at the table when he got there. He fixed a quick waffle and sat down next to the redhead. 

"Hey, crazy session this morning, huh?"

Jean didn't respond to him. He looked at her closer now and realized that something was clearly bothering her.

"Hey, you okay?"

She looked up as if she hadn't even known Scott was there.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I'm fine."

"You don't look fine."

Jean sighed as she dropped her fork and looked up at Scott. "If I tell you something, can you promise me that you won't tell the Professor or anyone else?"

Scott immediately forgot about breakfast. Something serious was going on. "Jean, you can trust me. You should know that by now."

She gently bit her lower lip. He could tell she was nervous.

"I won't tell a soul. I promise."

She finally opened her mouth, but Evan barged through the door just as she started to talk. They both glared at him, but the young mutant failed to understand that he wasn't wanted in the room.

"'Sup! What's for breakfast today?"

Scott and Jean exchanged a quick glance at each other. Then Scott turned to look up at Evan, who was pouring himself a glass of milk.

"Hey Evan, we were kinda talking about something important. You mind?"

Evan took a sip as he walked to the table and sat down directly across from the pair.

"No way, man. You two go ahead. You won't bother me."

Scott and Jean both watched him sit down obliviously, shock registering on both their faces. Soon, Kitty and Rogue entered the room as well and it was clear that the moment had passed.

Jean placed her hand on Scott's shoulder for a quick second. "Forget it. It's no big deal."

"We'll talk later," said Scott as he returned to his breakfast. Jean didn't respond.

Once it was time for everyone to get to school, Scott, Kurt, and Evan all piled into Scott's car while Kitty and Rogue rode with Jean. Scott sped his red convertible out of the garage while Kurt and Evan carried on a conversation about Mr. Gompers and who his replacement might be. Scott let their voices drown out. He was focused on what was bothering Jean. He was also still remembering the feel of her hand on his shoulder. A smile parted his lips as he drifted off to his fantasy world where Duncan Matthews didn't exist and nothing stood between he and Jean. He liked her. That was obvious to everyone in the mansion. And he was always catching subtle hints that she liked him as well, but Duncan was always standing between them. It was as if she liked him, but was afraid of what Duncan would think if she ever admitted it. As long as Duncan was in the equation, nothing Scott could do would ever draw her closer to him.

"Whoa! Watch ze road!" yelled Kurt, ripping Scott out of the daydream.

Scott's eyes refocused immediately on the road, which he had to swerve to get back onto after drifting to the edge of the shoulder. Once they were safely between the yellow lines again, the three boys took a deep breath.

"What's up with you, man?" asked Evan.

"Sorry. I guess I wasn't paying attention."

"Jah, vell don't let it happen again!" said Kurt in feigned horror.

"I won't," said Scott assuredly with a smile.

The three boys glanced around at each other and laughed. For some reason that they would never understand, anything that didn't kill them always seemed funny afterwards.

Jean, Rogue, and Kitty beat them to the school by mere seconds. Scott pulled into the parking spot next to Jean and the X-Men all climbed out of their respective rides to walk to the building together. Scott grabbed Jean and held her back a little ways so that they could walk away from the others.

"Hey, what was it you wanted to tell me earlier?" he asked.

Jean started toying with the shoulder strap of her backpack as she began walking towards the school.

"Oh, it was nothing."

"C'mon Jean. I know you better than that," said Scott with a small 

grin. "What's bugging you?"

She stopped walking and let out a short sigh as she glanced over her shoulder. No one was around them.

"Something happened yesterday afternoon when I was with Duncan."

Scott winced slightly. He hated it when Jean talked about Duncan. But then again, this was a story involving Duncan that she was worried about. Maybe this could be a good story, at least from his view.

"What was it?"

"I'll tell you later." She turned to walk towards the school. Scott reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. She turned back around to face him again.

"Tell me now."

She glanced around one more time. The other X-Men were nearly inside and no other cars could be seen pulling into the parking lot. They were completely alone.

"We were in his car and driving to the mall," she began. "He was goofing off, as usual. Y'know, running stop signs and speeding just to impress me. I told him to slow down but he just told me to loosen up and have fun. Anyway, he eventually hit a wet spot on the road and lost control. We started sliding towards another car. He slammed on the brakes, but it didn't help. Without thinking about it, I used my powers to stop us. I lifted our car over the other one and brought us down again on the other side. Well needless to say, he noticed. There was nothing I could say that would explain it, so I just didn't say anything when he asked me what happened."

"Sounds like you're lucky Dunc's too stupid to figure it out on his own," joked Scott. He understood the seriousness of the situation, but he wanted to keep the mood light. He had found that always helped when having very serious conversations. Jean glared at him. It was that glare she gave him whenever he talked about Duncan like so. He used to hate that glare. Now, though, he had learned to just shrug it off. Duncan deserved it anyway.

"That's the problem," said Jean. "He _did_ figure it out!"

Scott's jaw dropped. He hadn't been expecting that at all. "What?!"

"We just sat there for a while to catch our breaths and then he asked me what happened. I said I didn't know, then he asked if I was a mutant! He said he'd heard about mutants from his parents. I told him I wasn't, but then he asked me to explain what had just happened. What could I say, Scott? I mean, there was nothing I could tell him that would make sense and he had already put two and two together. So I admitted that I was a mutant."

"You…why would you tell him that?!" asked Scott in shock.

"Well, it was the truth," said Jean coldly. 

Scott collected himself. She wasn't looking for someone who would freak out about this. He took a breath and calmed his thoughts.

"So what'd he say after that?"

"That he couldn't date mutants. That he was embarrassed that he had ever been with me in the first place. Then he stopped and smiled at me. I didn't know what was going on, but then he said that it might be useful. He said he'd tell the whole school about me if I didn't do whatever he wanted."

"What?! He can't do that! It's extortion!" said Scott, who was getting angrier by the minute. Blackmail was not something to be taken lightly in Scott's eyes, especially when directed at Jean.

"I tried to say that wouldn't work, but then he told me he'd not only tell the school about me, but he'd hurt me! I said no again and he tried to hit me! The only reason he missed was because I used my powers to deflect it."

If Scott had been angry before, he was furious now. "He tried to hit you?"

"In the face," said Jean, pointing to her eye. "Scott, I'm scared. I don't know what he's capable of. I mean, he had this scary look in his eyes when he dropped me off at the mansion afterwards. I don't know what to do."

Scott picked up her hand and stepped closer to her as she batted a tear from one eye. It strolled down her cheek without a clear direction, then finally fell to his shirt.

"Don't worry. It's gonna be okay. Why don't you go home and talk to the Professor about this."

She let her hand rest in his while they talked. The touch was comforting for her. "I can't tell the Professor! He'll be angry that I let Duncan find out! He's always taught us to be so careful and then I go and make such a stupid mistake. He'll…"

"He'll understand, Jean. Just go talk to him."

She sighed. Scott was right. "Maybe this afternoon," she said softly.

"Good. Now come on. We better get inside," said Scott. He wanted to talk to her and comfort her. But they had to get to class. They'd have to talk later.

She nodded and they started walking towards the school again. The others were already inside and Scott and Jean just barely had enough time to make it to first period.

*****

After lunch, Scott stopped by his locker to grab a couple books for the afternoon. Jean was already standing by her open locker, which was located just across the hall from his. Scott could see her standing there. It looked like she was talking to someone, but the crowd of students blocked the person. Whoever she was talking to, Jean looked upset. Scott finally made it to his locker and opened it. He reached inside for his math book, but turned around when he heard Jean's voice suddenly get louder.

"I said leave me alone, Duncan!"

Scott's head turned and saw that Jean was indeed talking to Duncan. She was clearly upset by his presence, but Scott decided not to interfere. Instead, he just watched over his shoulder and listened intently to their conversation.

"I don't think you're in any position to be making demands, or have you forgotten about yesterday?" said Duncan just loud enough that Scott could make out his words. The sentence made Scott's blood boil.

"Look Duncan, you need to leave me alone. If you can't accept me, that's your problem. But there's no reason to make this into a big deal."

"You lied to me, Jean. That's a big deal in my book."

"I had to! I couldn't just go around telling people!"

"No, you couldn't. Because if you did, they'd see you for what you are, a freak! Now you got one last chance to do this or things are gonna get ugly," he said, slowly raising his hand menacingly.

Jean cringed slightly. "I'm not gonna use my power to alter people's minds so you can get the Conference MVP Award for the season!" she whispered furiously.

"Wrong answer," said Duncan. His hand swung towards her face with an open palm.

Jean was just about to deflect the slap telekinetically when a fist slammed into the side of Duncan's head and knocked him to the ground. Jean screamed out of surprise and watched Duncan fall. When she looked back up, Scott was standing in front of her.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," said a confused Jean. "I'm fine."

Duncan was back on his feet now, his face red and his fists clenched.

"You want some of this, Summers?"

Scott turned to him and tightened his own fists.

"Hitting girls, Dunc? At least pick on someone who's on your own level. I hear they're dissecting frogs in the biology classes today. Go try there."

Duncan yelled as he charged at Scott and swung one fist at him. Little did he know that Scott trained for fights twice as intense as this one at least once a day. Scott was able to quickly dodge Duncan's attack and counter with his own, an elbow on Duncan's back that knocked him to the ground.

Unfortunately, Scott failed to calculate the fact that Duncan spent every afternoon taking hits in football practice. He was used to being knocked around and the fall hurt nothing but his pride. Duncan grabbed Scott's leg and pulled it out from under him, bringing Scott to the ground as well.

Soon, the two boys were at it furiously as they both stayed on the ground. Fists flew back and forth as each one tried to return to his feet as if the first to accomplish this task would win the fight. Each time one had nearly stood back up, the other would knock him back to the ground and it would start again. 

Eventually, the basketball coach came running from the cafeteria and, with the help of one of the school's football players who didn't want their starting QB to be suspended, broke up the fight. The two were immediately escorted to Principal Darkholme's office.

Meanwhile, Jean, Kurt, Kitty, Rogue, and Evan all stood around in shock. They had seen Scott attack enemies in the Danger Room in hand-to-hand combat before and they'd seen him fight the Brotherhood many times, but none of them could remember seeing Scott in such a furious rage ever before.

"What was that all about?" asked Kitty, turning to face Jean.

Jean hesitated for a moment, her face obviously flustered. "You know how those two hate each other. Things just got more heated than usual." It was a lie and she knew it, but Jean was still afraid to tell anyone the truth.

*****

The Principal's office was dark and uninviting. On one side of the large oak desk sat Ms. Darkholme, the unforgiving principal of BHS and, as Scott was fully aware, one of the X-Men's greatest enemies, Mystique. On the other side of the desk sat Scott and Duncan, who were both intimidated by their surroundings, though neither would ever admit it.

"Would one of you like to tell me what you were doing out there?" asked Darkholme angrily.

Scott decided it'd be best if he spoke up first. Maybe he could take control of the situation.

"I overheard him talking to his girlfriend, Ms. Darkholme. It sounded like he was threatening her and then I saw him raise his hand like he was about to slap her. I couldn't let him do that so I punched him before he had the chance."

"You don't know what you heard, Summers!" exclaimed Duncan. "Ms. Darkholme, I was just raising my hand over my head to stretch when he came out of nowhere and attacked me!"

"Don't try to lie, Duncan! You were…"

"Stop it!" yelled Darkholme. "One at a time. We'll start with you, Mr. Summers. Tell me what happened."

Duncan huffed as sat back into his chair and glanced over at Scott angrily.

Scott looked into Ms. Darkholme's eyes. The yellow pupils were there, but you wouldn't notice them if you weren't looking for them. He mentally shook the thought from his head and averted his gaze.

"Jean had already told me this morning that she was afraid Duncan might do something to her sometime soon. Apparently they had a…a fight recently and she was scared. So when I saw Duncan raise his hand, I knew what he was doing and I couldn't just let him hit her like that. I had to do something!"

"So you attacked him?"

"Well, yeah. It seemed like the only choice I had."

Ms. Darkholme nodded. This would have been a good sign with anyone else, but Scott knew nothing good could come from her.

"Well then, what's your story, Mr. Matthews?"

Duncan sat forward as he started into his version of the events. "Jean and I got into a fight yesterday, that's true. But I never threatened her then and I didn't threaten her now. We were just talking about the argument we'd had the day before. I started raising my hand to stretch. I had a test this morning and my arm was cramping up. Then, all of a sudden, this guy comes out of nowhere and hits me! Maybe it wasn't the best choice, but I got back up and hit him back. Then it all escalated."

Darkholme nodded again. Scott glanced at Duncan out of the corner of his eye. He was lying and Scott knew it.

"Mr. Matthews, fighting on school grounds, even in self-defense, is against the rules. However, since you didn't start the fight, I'm only giving you Saturday detention."

Duncan nodded. "Yes ma'am." He'd been to detention plenty of times. He could handle it once more.

"As for you," said Darkholme, turning to Scott, "you seem to be the instigator here. I see no reason for you to have started this fight. I'm giving you a three-day suspension, effective immediately. Furthermore, if there are any outbursts from you after you return, I'll expel you! Do you understand me?" 

Scott's jaw dropped in shock. "Ms. Darkholme, that's not fair!"

"Fair or not, the judgment is made, Mr. Summers. I'll call your guardian immediately and have him come get you. You can wait in the lobby. Mr. Matthews, you may go to class now and I don't want you to get in any more trouble. Now both of you get out of my office."

"Yes ma'am," said Duncan with a smile as he stood and left the room.

Scott stood silently and followed him out. As they exited the door to the office, Duncan turned around to face Scott with a smile.

"Way to go, Shades! Enjoy your suspension! Oh, and try not to get yourself expelled." Duncan was clearly enjoying this turn of events. Then he leaned in close to Scott and began to speak in a near whisper. "And don't worry about Jean. I'll take real good care of her until you get back."

Scott grabbed his arm roughly and turned Duncan so that they were looking eye-to-eye, or as best as they could with Scott's glasses.

"I'll be watching you, Dunc. I know what happened with you and Jean, and I'm _very_ protective of my friends. Hurt her and you'll regret it." He spat the words out at Duncan with venom, leaving no doubt that he would protect Jean at all costs.

Duncan pulled his arm from Scott's grip and stormed away. Scott watched him go as he shut the door to Ms. Darkholme's office.

*****

When the rest of the X-Men got home that afternoon, Scott was busy cleaning the Blackbird's hangar. The fight was all the school had talked about for the rest of the day. Rumors had spread quickly and all the X-Men but Jean were looking forward to hearing what was really going on. Unfortunately for them, Scott wasn't allowed to talk to anyone until his work was done. But Xavier had gone to talk to Darkholme face to face and with none of the other adults in town, Jean decided she needed to talk to Scott. She headed downstairs and found him mopping the hangar floor.

"Scott?" she said as she entered the room.

Scott's head stuck out from around the Blackbird. He smiled halfheartedly as he stepped around the jet to talk to Jean.

"Hey."

"Hi. I'm sorry about today," she said.

Scott looked up at her and put his mop in the bucket. "Yeah, well maybe the Professor can get Mystique to relent."

Jean nodded as she walked closer to him. "Scott, this is all my fault."

Scott stood there for a moment. In a way, it was her fault. But one look at her proved to him that he couldn't blame her. After all, it had been his idea to fight Duncan like that, not hers.

"Don't worry about it. I'll be all right. Besides, it's just three days."

"I appreciate what you were doing. I'm not so sure that was the right way to handle it, but I appreciate the thought behind it anyway."

"He was going to hurt you, Jean. I couldn't just stand back and watch it happen."

"I could've stopped him," she said rather defensively.

"You sure were waiting long enough to do it," said Scott.

"Well I was just about to when you leveled him out of nowhere."

Scott smiled. He had enjoyed that first punch quite a bit. Then he remembered Duncan's taunts after the meeting with Ms. Darkholme and the smile faded.

"Be careful around him, Jean. I think he's looking to hurt you."

Jean's gaze immediately fell to the floor as she grabbed her left wrist in her right hand. "I know," she said meekly.

Scott watched her curiously. "Jean, are you okay?"

Her gaze remained fixed on the floor. "Yeah. I'll be fine."

He reached out and pulled her left hand up. When it rose to their chest level, her sleeve fell low enough that Scott could see small bruises just beginning to form around her wrist. He looked up at her eyes immediately.

"Did Duncan do this?"

She nodded and quietly added, "He grabbed me in the hall after he got out of Darkholme's office."

Scott surveyed the bruises. "Quite a grip."

Jean pulled her hand down quickly. "Yeah, it is."

Scott turned around with his fists clenched at his sides. "I could kill him for this. I can't just let him hurt you whenever he wants!"

Jean put her right hand on Scott's shoulder. "Calm down, Scott. I'll talk to the Professor as soon as he gets back and we'll sort everything out. It'll be okay. _I'll_ be okay."

Scott kept his back to her as anger rushed through him. "You're right. Everything's gonna be fine."

*****

Jean had a long talk with the Professor when he returned. He had been unable to convince Mystique to relent on Scott's punishment, but three days away from school wasn't bad. After all, he could have been expelled!

After the conversation with Jean was over, the Professor asked her to watch the mansion for the night. He had already made plans to have dinner with an old friend who would be returning to Bayville soon after Christmas. This friend was in town for one day only to finalize the deal on his new house. Jean agreed and within two hours the Professor had left.

Scott refused to talk to anyone after his earlier conversation with Jean. Even Kurt, who had always been his best friend at the mansion, couldn't get him to open up. So the X-Men just decided to let him brood for the night while they enjoyed their adult free evening. They ordered pizza and had just finished eating when an alarm began going off in the basement. Jean and Kurt teleported down to see what was going on. When they got to the security room, they discovered that the alarm was not the mansion's security system, but was connected to the school's! A large screen showed the surveillance pictures from the cameras set up around Bayville High. Kurt and Jean watched the screen as it clicked from one camera to the next in three-second intervals. Finally, one camera showed a group of kids standing outside the main entrance to the building and trying to get inside. They gasped when they realized that the students were the Brotherhood!

It didn't take long for the X-Men to get in uniform and load into the van to go to the school and stop the Brotherhood from tearing the place down. Scott was in his room and on his computer when Jean came in and told him what was going on.

"Scott, the Brotherhood is vandalizing the school. We're going to stop them."

Scott looked up at her and frowned. "Have fun."

She was taken aback by his answer. "Aren't you coming?"

"Why should I protect that place? I don't care if they tear the building to the ground!"

Jean huffed. "Are you sure?"

"Positive. Go without me."

Jean slammed the door without arguing with him. Frankly, she was too angry with him to argue. When she got back, then she'd let him know how childish he was being! Just because he'd been suspended didn't give him the right to act like this!

Scott stood by his window and watched the X-van drive down the driveway and through the gates. Once they were gone, he grabbed his keys and walked down to his car.

*****

A normal fight with the Brotherhood lasted no more than thirty minutes. That was usually enough time to soundly beat them and send them running away. But tonight, the boys just refused to back down. When they finally gave in and left the school, the fight had dragged on for an hour and a half! The X-Men were astounded at the Brotherhood's resilience, but they were too exhausted to wonder what tonight's difference had been. Frankly, it didn't matter to them. The important thing was that they had won and now they could go home and go to sleep. 

But things were far from calm and peaceful when they returned to the mansion. They knew something was wrong as soon as Jean turned the corner that led to the mansion. They could just barely see flashing lights through the trees. They decided to take the hidden road that would lead the van into the underground basement. Here they changed into normal clothes, returned to the van, and drove back to the front gates. Finally, they approached the mansion as if for the first time. What they saw both shocked and confused all of them.

Police cars were everywhere. There were at least seven cars there and each still had its flashing lights on. Cops roamed the grounds with flashlights as if they were looking for something. The X-Men pulled up to the front of the house, where they were stopped by two policemen and told to get out of the van. They did so and began walking toward the policemen to find out what was going on.

But as she began walking, Jean was distracted by something to her left. She did a double take, completely shocked by what was taking place over her shoulder. Scott was in handcuffs and being led to one of the police cars!

Jean yelled his name as she began running towards him. His eyes stayed on the ground and he was loaded into the police car just as Jean got to him. She didn't have time to ask him what was going on as the door was shut and the car drove away before Scott even looked up at her.

The other X-Men had all followed Jean. Now they stood in a small group as the policemen who originally stopped them came up to them to ask a few questions.

"Hey! Do you kids live here?"

Most of the X-Men turned to face the voice behind them. Jean's gaze was still fixed on the car carrying Scott as it disappeared around the trees. Kurt looked around and decided to speak up for the group. 

"Jah. Ve're ztudents at ze Inztitute."

"This place is some sort of school then?"

"Jah."

"Where're your instructors?"

"Two are out of town. Ze owner is having dinner with a vriend."

"Can you contact them?"

"Jah," said Kurt, trying to remember the Professor's cell phone number.

"Then do it. There's a problem."

"Vhat's going on?"

"There's been a murder."

The kids all took one collective gasp. A murder?! Who? How? Suddenly, a look of combined horror and recognition swept over Jean's face, but Rogue stepped forward and asked the question on Jean's mind before she could.

"Ya don't think Scott did it, do ya?" she asked as if the whole idea was completely preposterous.

"I'm sorry," said the cop. "I'll have to speak to your teacher about that. Now if one of you would please call him, I'd appreciate it."

Kurt nodded and asked Kitty to hand him her phone. She agreed and laid it in his hand hesitantly, her eyes still looking at the mansion and the cops pouring in and out the front door. Kurt dialed the Professor and turned away from the group so he could talk. The Professor answered quickly as Evan turned to ask the officer a question.

"Who got killed?" he asked.

The officer looked up at him as he tried to remember the name.

"Some teenager. I think the name was Duncan Matthews."

Every kid's head zipped around to the officer when they heard that. Kurt slowly gathered himself and returned to his conversation with the Professor to explain what was happening. Jean looked back towards the front gates again. Slowly, a wave of dread washed over her face. She silently turned and ran into the mansion. The policemen began chasing after her, yelling for her to come back. The other X-Men followed quickly, except for Kurt who was still trying to explain things to Xavier. 

Jean got inside and followed the trail of cops to the kitchen, where she saw a sight she would never forget. On the floor beside the dining table was a boy with blonde hair, lying facedown on the floor in blue jeans and a red letter jacket. A pool of blood was seeping from underneath the boy's chest. In the middle of his back were four small holes, surrounded by blood.

The rest of the X-Men nearly ran over Jean as they hurried into the room. The two policemen came up behind all of them finally and told them they couldn't be in here. They were rushed from the scene quickly, but they had seen enough. Duncan Matthews' dead body was currently lying in their kitchen!


	2. All in a Day's Work

****

A/N: Here it is, chapter 2! I forgot to mention this last time, but I am going to do my best to update every weekend on either Friday or Saturday, usually Friday. I may miss a week here or there, but most weekends will see a new chapter in this story. That way you're not left with two months to forget everything before a new chapter comes out.

I want to say a big "thank you" to those who have reviewed. I really appreciate all the feedback I get. Those of you who didn't review, I'm still waiting. I accept anonymous reviews, though signed ones are preferred if you have an account. One quick thing about reviewing. If you think you know how the murder happened, please don't explain your theory in your review. I would rather you just email me your theory and I'll reply to you. That way you don't ruin the fun for everyone else. Thank you.

So that's all I have to say. Enjoy the new chapter!

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At 6'1" and 200 lbs., Detective Ed Baker was far from being a pushover on the Bayville police force. He had started his career in the NYPD and advanced to the rank of detective there. He'd raised his family in New York and now his kids were all grown and raising families of their own. Detective Baker was 57 years old. He would have loved to retire, but simply couldn't. He needed the health insurance. He had been diagnosed with lung cancer two years before, a product of smoking two packs a day for 39 years. He'd quit immediately after being diagnosed and fought the cancer with all sorts of treatments. He had been in remission now for one year and three months. He was still self-conscious about his hair though, which he lost in the chemo. When it came back, it only grew in on the sides, leaving him completely bald on top of his head. On the bright side though, his weight was much healthier now. When he was diagnosed, Baker weighed 245 lbs. He now liked to joke with his friends that having cancer was the best diet he'd even been on! After he was declared healthy, he had decided to slow down. He moved upstate and started working with the Bayville Police Department, a job he enjoyed much more than he'd expected. Baker had always loved the thrill of the city, but now he found the quiet of Bayville to be quite inviting as well.

Baker's partner on the force, Detective Natalie Miller, was at the other end of the spectrum. Miller was 35, although she looked no older than 26 or 27. She was a beautiful woman who had never married. Her love was her work and none of the men she had dated had been able to accept that. She dreamed of one day making it to the city and saw Bayville merely as a rest stop on her way to becoming a star detective in the NYPD. Working with Ed Baker had been like a dream come true for her. She constantly asked him for advice on how to handle cases and valued any input he gave her. She viewed him more as a teacher than a partner, though they certainly worked well together when on the scene. 

Baker and Miller were easily the best detectives on the squad in Bayville. With that in mind, the choice to send the pair to Bayville's newest crime scene had been an easy one. They arrived at the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters at precisely 9:12 p.m. Squad cars were circled around everywhere and the scene was chaotic. They were led into the mansion through the front door, where it was quiet enough for them to talk to Lieutenant Frank Varley, a tall, slim man with graying hair and a trim goatee.

"What've we got?" asked Baker once they were inside.

"DOA's Duncan Matthews, football star for Bayville High School," said Varley.

"Suspects?" asked Miller.

"Just one for now. Scott Summers. He lives here."

Baker took a look around the ornate entrance hall. "Wow. Quite a place to live!"

"Yeah. Body's this way. Doctor Dupree is waiting until you're finished," said Varley as he began walking to the kitchen. The two detectives followed him. "Baker, I'm making you the lead on this."

"Sounds good. So what's the story?"

"911 call came in around 8:50 from the phone here, presumably the DOA."

"We'll want the recording," said Baker.

"Of course. It's being delivered to my office. I'll get it to you as soon as I can. After the call, 911 center puts out an all-points bulletin. Two units responded at about the same time. The house is empty except for the DOA and Summers."

"I thought this place was a school?"

"It is. We don't know where the other students or teachers are. Anyway, they found Matthews already on the ground. Summers was on the ground knee-deep in blood trying to move the body."

"He make a statement?" asked Miller, her black ponytail bouncing as the three moved swiftly down a long hallway.

"No," said Varley as he opened the door to the kitchen. "Here he is."

The room was a grisly scene to say the least. The paling body of Duncan Matthews lay on its back on the floor beside the dining table. Blood ran along the floor around him. His eyes were open and hazy; his mouth red with blood. CSI units were already collecting blood samples and inspecting the scene. Doctor Dupree was standing to the side, waiting to take the body to the morgue when the detectives were done with it. Baker and Miller walked in and looked over the body.

"Blood everywhere. Where's the wound?" asked Baker as he slipped on a pair of rubber gloves.

"No one's bothered the body since Summers was pulled away from it," said Varley. "I knew you'd want it untouched, Ed."

Baker and Miller both crouched over the lifeless form and made mental notes to themselves. Their eyes scanned over every inch of Duncan looking for evidence.

"Found a bullet hole," said Miller, pointing to a small hole in Duncan's left shoulder. "Too much blood for just one hole though."

"No doubt. That's not a fatal wound. It just incapacitated him long enough to fire the fatal shots," said Baker. "Ready to roll?" he asked.

Miller nodded and rolled the body over. Four bullet holes were immediately visible in Duncan's back.

"And there's the rest," said Miller.

Baker glanced down at the tile floor beneath them. "Three more in the floor."

"We should be able to recover at least one to match to the weapon," said Miller, standing up. 

Baker stood as well and turned to Varley. "Speaking of which, do we have a weapon yet?"

"They're looking for it."

"Let me know when they find it," said Baker. "I want that gun." 

Suddenly, the door burst open and a tall redheaded teenage girl ran in, immediately followed by three other teenagers. They all stood in the doorway and stared at the body silently.

Baker shot Varley a gruff look as if he were demanding that his crime scene be more guarded than this. Varley understood the look and nodded. He turned to tell the kids to leave, but two uniform cops appeared and led them away with an apologetic wave to the detectives before Varley could say anything.

"The other students, I presume," said Miller once they were gone.

"Guess so. Excuse me, detectives. I'm gonna go have a chat with them."

Baker and Miller nodded as Varley turned and left the room.

When he was gone, Baker turned to face Doctor Dupree. "Can we have a minute, Doctor?"

"Of course," said the middle-aged man with a nod.

Baker and Miller stood over the body for a moment while a CSI unit took some photographs. "When can you have the autopsy report?"

"Tomorrow by lunch."

"I want to know everything," said Baker.

"Of course."

"Thank you, Doctor," said Miller.

The doctor nodded and Baker and Miller left the room. They pulled their rubber gloves off and walked past Varley as he was talking to the teenagers.

"You two going to Central?" asked Varley as they passed him.

"Yeah," said Baker over his shoulder. "We're gonna go talk to our suspect."

*****

Once they were back on the road, Miller turned to her partner to gauge his reaction to the scene.

"What do you think?"

Baker glanced at her through the corner of his eye. "I think he did it. I think he was just about to get rid of the body when the uniforms caught him. How 'bout you?"

"I don't know. What's the motive?"

"That's what we're about to find out."

"Yeah, I guess. But what was Matthews doing at the Institute in the first place though?"

Baker shrugged. "Don't know. Was his car there?"

Miller thought back, but they had both neglected to think of this question while at the mansion. Before she could answer, her cell phone rang. It was Varley.

Miller answered it after one ring. "What is it, Lieutenant?"

"Just finished talking to the kids. Apparently Summers and Matthews were in a fight at school earlier today that earned Summers a suspension and Matthews a detention."

"What was the fight about?"

"A girl. The redhead to be more specific."

"The one who ran into the room?"

"That's the one. Apparently she had been dating the victim."

"There anything going on between Summers and the girl?"

"Not that anyone knows of, but it's possible she was cheating on her boyfriend. They live together. It'd be easy to keep it a secret."

"Thanks, Lieutenant. By the way, was Matthews' car there?"

"Yeah. Whether he drove it here or not is another question though."

"Alright. Thanks again, Lieutenant."

"No problem. Hey, you two be careful with Summers. I don't want this case lost on a technicality."

"Sure thing, boss."

Miller hung up the phone and replaced it in her pocket.

"You catch that?"

"Yeah, sounds like teenage love gone awry."

Miller nodded. "I think we have our motive."

*****

Scott was waiting in the dim interrogation room when Baker and Miller came in and sat down across the table from him. Baker spoke first.

"Take the glasses off, son. It's 9:30 at night."

"I can't. I have an eye condition," said Scott.

Baker was surprised by the response. He leaned forward and called on his most intimidating voice to get the reaction he wanted.

"Take 'em off now. It ain't exactly bright in here. Yer eyes'll be fine."

Scott refused again, aggravating the man even more. Baker reached across the table and snatched the shades off his suspect's face. To his amazement though, Scott's eyes closed as soon as the glasses were gone!

"Open yer eyes, kid. We're not playin' games here."

He shook his head. "I can't."

"Why not?" asked Miller in a demanding tone. She'd seen suspects play strange mind games before, but this was ridiculous!

Summers sighed. "Have either of you ever heard the term mutant?"

Baker and Miller exchanged surprised, quizzical glances. Miller shook her head at her partner, but Baker seemed to be lost in thought. After a moment he finally answered.

"Once. I had a case about 15 years ago where some guy killed his son. He said the kid was a mutant and was shootin' lasers outta his hands. We thought he was crazy though. He's been locked in the loony bin ever since."

"He may have been crazy," answered Scott, "but he was right about his kid being a mutant. If I open my eyes, a powerful red beam will fire out of them. It'd be enough to destroy this whole building. Trust me. I've seen it happen. That's why I wear the glasses."

Again, Baker and Miller found themselves looking at each other in surprise.

"I'll prove it if you can just give me back the glasses," said Summers.

Baker shrugged and placed the shades in his hand. Scott immediately put them back over his eyes.

"Now, watch the edges of the glasses. You'll see a red glow."

Scott began to pull the glasses down his nose a little bit, just enough that the light from the beam shone out from his face. The detectives watched him in shock until he replaced the glasses snugly over his eyes.

Baker nodded. "Okay, anything else we should know about this 'mutant' thing?"

Scott shook his head. "No. Every mutant has a different power, but that's all I can do."

"Your friends know about that?" asked Miller.

"Only the ones at the Institute."

Baker and Miller glanced at each other, then turned back to Scott. "Thanks for leveling with us, Scott," said Miller sympathetically. "We won't hold those powers against you. I just hope you can be just as honest while we talk about what happened tonight," She played the good cop pretty well against Baker's bad cop.

"Well then Scott," said Baker, "would you like to tell me what happened tonight?"

"I don't know what happened. I just found Duncan's body in the floor."

"No idea how he got there?"

"No."

"That place you live at, it's a school, right?"

"Yeah."

"Where were the other students?"

Baker watched him sit in silence for a moment. He had interrogated hundreds, maybe even thousands of suspects before but he had never questioned anyone wearing sunglasses. It was hard to gauge Summers' reactions. He couldn't tell if he was lying or not when he heard the answers.

"Where were they, Scott?" asked Miller soothingly. She couldn't let him clam up.

"I don't know."

"You don't know?" said Baker.

"No. They left without me at about 6:30. I didn't see them again until after you guys got there."

"So what'd you do when they left?"

A quick pause.

"I went for a drive."

"Where to?"

Silence.

"Just around."

"Just around," mocked Baker. "Great! You wanna help yourself Scott? Then you gotta give us better answers than 'just around.' Where'd you go?"

"Nowhere, really. I just went for a drive to clear my head."

"From what?"

"Some stuff."

"From the fight you had with Matthews this afternoon?"

Another pause.

"Yeah."

"We hear you got a stiffer punishment than he did," said Miller.

"Yeah."

"That make you mad?"

"Of course it did."

"Mad enough to kill?"

"No."

"What started the fight this afternoon?" asked Baker.

"He was gonna hit Jean."

"Your girlfriend?"

Scott paused.

"His girlfriend."

"But you wish it was the other way around."

No answer.

"All right Scott," said Baker. "Here's how I see it. Maybe you got mad when he tried to hit the girl. Then maybe you got even madder when he got off lighter than you. Then you find yourself alone for about two hours. You're mad and you're alone. Your emotions take over and you kill Matthews. That's a temporary insanity plea and you only get a few years."

Scott still didn't respond. Baker noted again how hard he was to read with those glasses.

"Or maybe you're mad that he's datin' the girl you like and you decide that if he was out of the picture, then you could be with the girl. If that's the case then that's pre-meditation and you go to jail for life, or worse."

Still no response.

Miller leaned forward and tried to explain the situation to him. "We can sell this to the DA two ways, Scott. Tell us which it was or tell us where you went tonight. Give us an alibi," said Miller.

Scott's head was dipped down so that he appeared to be looking at the table. He still wasn't answering.

"This is your only chance, Scott," said Miller with a sense of urgency. "Help us help you. We don't wanna see you go to jail for this."

Still no answer.

Baker stood up, Miller following his lead. "Think about it, Scott. The DA is already charging you with first-degree murder. And at your age you can be tried as an adult. Get convicted and…well, the words 'lethal injection' spring to mind. Now we're gonna step outside. You stay in here and think about that. You can help yourself kid, but you gotta start now. Think about it."

The detectives left the room and locked the door behind them. Once outside, they immediately started talking as they made their way to the office.

"What do ya think?" asked Miller.

"No alibi. Plenty of motive. Plenty of opportunity. Unwilling to answer questions that dig too deep. He's guilty," said Baker matter-of-factly.

Miller nodded. She was beginning to think the same thing, but she wasn't quite convinced just yet.

When they got to their office, they found a sealed brown bag lying on their desks. Detective Malhoney, another detective in their squad, pointed to it when they got there.

"That just came down from Communications," he said. 

Baker picked it up and ripped the bag open quickly. Then he pulled the cassette tape out with glee.

"Let's see him keep his mouth shut when he hears this!"

*****

Baker and Miller came back into the interrogation room and returned to their seats. Scott was still right where they'd left him. Once they were settled and the door was shut, Baker set a tape player on the table between him and Scott.

"This is the 911 call that was placed from the Xavier Institute tonight, Scott. Care to guess what's on it?"

Scott didn't answer, but kept his gaze glued to the tape player.

"Let's find out." Baker reached over and punched the play button, then settled back to watch Scott's reaction.

"911 emergency center, what's your situation?"

"He's got a gun!"

"Sir, what's going on?"

"I didn't know he was this crazy!"

"Sir, calm down. Where are you?"

"Oh man, he's coming! He's coming!"

"Calm down sir. Please listen to me…"

The sound of a door opening could be heard.

"Dude! What do you think you're doin' man? Put that thing down!"

BLAMM!

One gunshot rang out, followed by a very short pause.

BLAMM! BLAMM! BLAMM!

Three more shots fired quickly and a thud was heard over the phone.

BLAMM!

BLAMM!

BLAMM!

BLAMM!

Four more sounded individually after a short pause.

"Sir? Sir! Somebody call homicide!"

Baker hit the stop button. During the tape, Scott's gaze had stayed fixed on the tape player. His mouth had twitched at the gunshots, but other than that Scott remained motionless, his body leaning forward with his arms resting on the table. Again, Baker cursed those sunglasses of his. It was impossible to read the kid with them!

"That's powerful stuff, Scott. Something like that gets admitted at trial."

Scott's mouth curled into a small, cold frown. His gaze remained fixed on the tape player. Baker noted a few drops of swear appearing on the kids' brow. 

"Anything you wanna tell me, Scott? This is your last chance."

"I wanna talk to a lawyer," he said without raising his gaze.

That was it. There was nothing more Baker and Miller could get out of him now without first talking to whatever slimy lawyer he hired. They stood to leave the room. As Baker opened the door, he turned and looked directly at Scott's face.

"That's a good idea, Scott. 'Cause I'm thinkin' you're gonna need one."


	3. Disrupting Dinner

****

A/N: Chapter 3 has arrived. I really have nothing else to ramble on about right now, so enjoy!

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Professor Xavier was having dinner in a nice restaurant in downtown Bayville when his cell phone started ringing. He kept it in a small compartment on the arm of his wheelchair, so it didn't take him long to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Provezzor, thiz iz Kurt. Zomething's happened at ze mansion."

Xavier could immediately tell something was very wrong. Kurt always had a strong accent, but it was emphasized now. When he got excited, Kurt's accent usually tended to take over.

"Calm down, Kurt. What's wrong."

"There's been a…" Kurt suddenly stopped and the Professor could hear a strange voice in the background, but he couldn't make out the words.

"Kurt? There's been a what?"

Kurt finally began talking again after a moment, now even more excitedly than before.

"A murder at ze manchin. It'z Duncan Mattewz! He'z been killed an' ze police zink Zcott did it!"

Xavier didn't ask Kurt to repeat it. He didn't need to. Kurt's voice was enough for Xavier to be able to focus on his mind and read his thoughts to make sure he had heard everything right.

"I'll be there as soon as possible Kurt. Just hold on."

"Hurry, Provezzor!" 

"Hold on, Kurt." Xavier hung up and put the phone away quickly.

"I'm sorry, Hank. There's an emergency at home."

"Is it major?" asked Hank McCoy as he took a sip from his glass of water.

Xavier was already signaling for the bill and moving his napkin from his lap.

"I'm afraid so."

"You need any help?"

"No. You go on home. You have a long drive anyway."

"Charles, if I can help at all…"

"No," interrupted Xavier. "No, I would rather the students not know that you are anything more than a new teacher when you come to Bayville next semester. Go on home, Hank."

"All right. If you say so." He extended his hand to the man who had served as a mentor to him during his youth. "Thanks for meeting me, Charles. I suppose I'll be seeing you soon."

Xavier took his hand and shook it heartily. "Thank you for dinner. And remember what I said about that serum of yours."

Hank smiled and raised one hand as if brushing the thought away. "Don't worry, Charles. Everything is under control."

*****

By the time Xavier made it to the mansion, the body had already been taken to the morgue. A few cops still lingered in the kitchen obtaining every last bit of evidence they could. Most of the remaining policemen were scanning the grounds for the murder weapon.

Xavier immediately found his students, then asked them to lead him to whoever was in charge of the investigation. They obligingly led him to Lt. Varley, who had asked them a few questions earlier. As they looked for Varley, Xavier took careful notice of how each student was acting. As he watched, he gently listened to their thoughts. He wasn't prying, of course. He was careful not to delve past the outer surface of each of their minds. He just needed to know how his students were handling the situation.

Everyone was clearly looking to Kurt for leadership, but Xavier could tell that Kurt was every bit as scared as the rest of the X-Men. Kitty was horrified by the events of the night. She was still in utter shock despite the fact that it had been 30 to 40 minutes since she'd first seen the body. Evan was uncomfortable, but intrigued at the same time. His mind was more focused on the policemen around him and the idea of being on a murder scene than it was on the eventual consequences of the night's events. Rogue was unusually quiet. The idea of a murder in her house had clearly rattled her composure. But at the same time, she was worried about Scott. Perhaps more so than any of the other X-Men, Rogue seemed to understand what this could mean. There was a deep fear that Xavier could sense inside her, but to find its source would mean digging through her thoughts much deeper than he was willing to go without consent. 

Xavier expected to find Jean a total wreck. To his surprise, though, she seemed okay. He could tell that it hadn't quite hit her what had happened, but for now she seemed strong. She was worried, no doubt. But her composure was holding up. She wasn't crying alone in the corner, though Xavier wouldn't blame her if she did. After all, the boy she had been dating for a year had just been murdered in her house by the boy that she had a crush on. Xavier stopped himself. Allegedly by the boy she had a crush on. At any rate, Xavier was the only person in the world who knew what Jean's true feelings for Scott were. There were times that he wasn't sure even Jean knew! It wasn't that he had probed her mind. He simply had much in common with Jean. She was like a daughter to him and she viewed him as a father. They had a close bond and Xavier could simply tell what she felt without having to probe her mind for answers.

It was this bond that had kept Xavier's frustration from boiling over during his talk with Jean that afternoon. When Xavier had returned from his wasted efforts with Darkholme, Jean had told him about her troubles with Duncan. He knew that this was the cause of that afternoon's fight between Scott and Duncan. At the time, she was already worried about the ongoing feud between the two boys growing to a climax as a result of her carelessness. Xavier had reassured her and told her not to worry about it. What was done was done. He had promised that he would find a way to deal with the new problem. In fact, he had already devised a solution to the problem. He had been planning on swiping Duncan's memory the next day. Now it seemed he would never get the chance.

Finally, the X-Men found Lt. Varley inside the kitchen, where the murder had taken place. The students refused to enter the room, leaving Xavier alone as he pushed through the wooden door. Varley was talking to the officer in charge of the search for the gun when Xavier rolled up behind him.

"Excuse me, Lieutenant."

Varley turned around, slightly surprised by the voice. "Yes? Oh! Hi. I assume you're Charles Xavier?"

"I am. I was hoping you could tell me what's going on here."

"Of course. We got a call from your house earlier tonight about a murder. When our officers arrived, they found one of your students, Scott Summers, trying to move the dead body out of the house. He was arrested on the spot and taken to the central station for questioning. I've got two detectives talking to him right now."

Xavier looked around the room as he listened to Varley. Blood stained the floor and three bullet holes were visible next to the pools of blood. He returned his gaze to Varley when the Lieutenant finished speaking.

"How did this happen?"

"Well," said Varley rather awkwardly, "the truth is we don't know yet. I'm still waiting to hear back from the detectives so I don't know what Summers is tellin' 'em."

"How long until you're out of my house?" asked Xavier. He had a feeling his students knew more about what was going on than Varley did.

"We'll be outta here in a couple hours, but we'll be sending a few officers over sometime tomorrow. I know it's an inconvenience, but this is a crime scene. We need to make sure we get all the evidence we can."

"I understand. Thank you, Lieutenant."

Varley nodded and shook Xavier's hand. "Thank you. I'll let you know what's going on when I find out."

Xavier nodded back and turned around to find the X-Men. He left the kitchen after one final look around and then traveled down the hallway to the elevator. He finally found the kids on the second floor in the den near the bedrooms.

"How are you all doing?" he asked as he rolled into the room.

The kids all turned and looked at the Professor quietly. Kurt was the first to speak.

"I zink ve're all ztill in zhock."

"That's understandable," said Xavier. "I was wondering what all of you knew though. Can you tell me what happened tonight?"

Slowly, the X-Men began telling the Professor about the night. They told him how the Brotherhood had attacked the school and how they had gone to stop them. They told how Scott had refused to go with them. Then they told the story of how they returned home to find police everywhere and Scott getting arrested. Xavier listened silently and absorbed the story from them, trying to make sense of it all.

"I see," said the Professor when they were done. "Well, if anyone asks where all of you were tonight, tell them that you went out for dinner without Scott. We'll find out exactly what happened as soon as we can. I want to talk with each of you in this room first thing in the morning. In the meantime, I think we all need to get as much sleep as possible. I'll try to get the police out of the mansion as soon as I can, but I don't know how effective I'll be." He looked at the group of worried teenagers and took a deep breath. "Good night to all of you. I'll see you first thing in the morning."

"Where should we say we went to eat?" asked Evan. If they claimed to have gone to dinner, they would have to all be able to claim the same restaurant. 

The Professor thought for a moment. "Lazzari's Italian Cafe," he finally said.

The X-Men nodded and slowly stood to go to bed without another word. There was simply nothing to say. Their minds were still spinning from the night's developments.

Xavier turned around and left the room. He crossed the hall and picked up the telephone, then grabbed the phone book and started looking up the number for Ororo's sister.


	4. Talking it Out

****

A/N: Okay, clearly y'all didn't like the last chapter much. That's okay. I didn't either. And because I don't think it's a very good chapter, I'm bringing you this chapter a few days early! Also, the next chapter will be posted this weekend as if nothing has changed! I hope this chapter is more to your liking.

----------------------

Varley called Baker and Miller into his office immediately when he got back to the station that night.

"How'd it go?" he asked as he took his jacket off and hung it on his hanger.

"He's not cooperatin'," said Baker. "He answered a few questions at first, then shut up quick when we started diggin'."

"What's your gut?" asked Varley, now leaning back in his chair.

"Guilty. He's not even offerin' an alibi. Just says he was 'drivin' around' the whole time."

Varley nodded and turned to Miller. "What do you think?"

"I'm not sure Lieutenant, but I'm leaning towards guilty."

"All right. How'd he react to the tape?"

"Shocked," said Baker. "Acted like he wasn't expectin' it when the shots fired. But it could have been just an act. He's hard to read with those shades on."

"What do you mean?" asked Varley, now leaning forward on his hands.

"He's got these red sunglasses that he wears."

"So take 'em off."

Baker and Miller shared a brief look that told Varley something more was going on.

"Okay, what's the story?"

"You ever heard of mutants, Frank?"

"No," said Varley in a confused tone.

Baker sighed. He was very aware of how crazy this sounded. "They're people with these weird powers that the scientists can't explain. Anyway, this kid's a mutant. He shoots red lasers out of his eyes if he takes the glasses off."

Varley stared at his detectives in complete silence when he heard this. "Ed, this isn't some corny sci-fi movie! I thought you knew better than to buy a story like that!"

Baker and Miller shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

"It's true," said Miller. "He showed us."

"He showed you?" mocked Varley, clearly enjoying the ludicrousness of it all.

Baker stood up from his seat. He didn't like to be laughed at. "Why don't ya come see for yerself, Frank."

*****

Fifteen minutes later, Miller locked back the door to Scott's cell and then followed Baker and Varley out of the room and down the hallway.

"Okay, so he's a mutant," said Varley, still reeling slightly from the shock of seeing that red light glowing from the kid's eyes. "What does that mean for the case?"

"It means we gotta be careful," said Baker. "The media's gonna eat this up when they find out."

"So we don't let 'em find out," suggested Miller.

"No, we have to," said Varley. "This adds a new dimension to the case. Maybe the Matthews kid figured out Summers' secret and so Summers killed him."

"So, what? You sayin' this is some new twisted type of racial crime?" asked Baker.

"I'm sayin' it gets more interesting now. Keep me updated. This could turn out to be the biggest case in Bayville history."

"Sure thing," said Miller. 

It was now almost midnight. The three of them stepped outside to the parking lot, exchanged pleasant good-byes, and drove to their respective homes where they would get a few hours of sleep and go back to work at 9:00 the next morning.

*****

Detective Baker walked into the office and took his coat off before sitting down at his desk. As soon as he was seated, Varley walked up and half sat on the corner of the desk beside him with some papers in his hand.

"Got some late-breaking news for ya," he said.

"Too early fer games, Frank. Just tell me what's goin' on." Baker was not a pleasant man before he had his morning coffee. 

"Uniforms found the gun around 1:30 last night. It was in the woods around the mansion, probably thrown out a second-story window."

"It been tested yet?" Baker reached behind him and began pouring a cup of coffee. The smell itself was enough to raise his spirits a little.

"Yep. It matches the bullets pulled from Matthews' back and the bullets in the floor. On top of that, it's covered in Summers' fingerprints."

"Sounds like we're startin' the day off well."

"Yeah, but that's not all."

Baker looked up, surprised. "What else?"

Varley smiled as he dropped the papers in his hand onto Baker's desk. "Those came from Communications about two hours ago. They're the phone records from the Institute. Someone called the Matthews home last night at 8:10. Now, the other students left Summers alone in the house at 7:30 while they went to dinner. Forty minutes later Summers calls Matthews. 911 call came at 8:50. Uniforms got there about 9:00. By then Matthews was dead."

Baker nodded as he listened and looked at the records for himself. "So maybe he uses that forty minute window to get the gun, then goes home and calls Matthews saying he wants to patch things up. When the kid gets there, Summers pulls the gun out. Matthews gets away and hides in the kitchen while he calls 911. While he's on the phone, Summers finds him and kills him."

"Looks that way."

"All right. Let's run with it," said Baker. "Have the CSI boys figured out how it went down yet?"

"Yep. First shot was fired while Matthews was facing Summers. The bullet hit his right shoulder and he grabbed at it with his other hand."

Varley stood up to reenact the scene for Baker. His left hand reached up and grabbed hold of his right shoulder while he bent over a little and pushed his right shoulder backwards, twisting his spine around so that half of his back now faced Baker.

"While he's in this position," continued Varley, "three more shots fire into his back. There's a gap as Matthews falls to the ground on his stomach. Summers shoots at the body from the same place that he's been standing the whole time, about 20 feet away. He fired four bullets after Matthews fell. One landed in the kid's back. The other three hit the ground."

"How'd he miss? Matthews wasn't moving at that point."

"Nerves, probably. He's never killed a guy before so his hand starts to shake a little. Pretty common for someone not used to firing a gun. Plus, he _is_ standing 20 feet away from the body. That's a tough angle to hit from."

"Okay, so Matthews is lying face down on the floor. He was face up when Miller and I got there."

"Yeah, but ya gotta remember that the uniforms said Summers was moving the body when they arrived. He's the one who rolled it over. Probably did it to make sure Matthews was dead."

"Makes sense," conceded Baker. He stood and took a sip of his coffee before reaching for his coat again.

Miller walked in just as Baker and Varley were standing up. "Hey, what's going on?"

Baker grabbed his keys and motioned for Miller to follow him. "I'll fill ya in on the way."

Miller turned and followed her partner through the door quickly, still slightly confused. "Where are we going?"

"Gun and pawn shops. Every one in town we can think of."

*****

Kurt lay in bed for hours that night without being able to sleep. He had gone to bed near midnight, but couldn't sleep until closer to 3 am. Of course, all the other X-Men had the same problem. The next morning, everyone was up early. None of the kids were going to school and the Professor had no intention of forcing them to. 

The kitchen was still roped off by police tape, something which the Professor felt was a little unnecessary. Frankly, none of the inhabitants of the mansion had any plans of going near the kitchen anyway. The refrigerator had been moved to the downstairs den, so there was really no reason for them to be near the room. But the police insisted that it was standard procedure to keep an area marked off until they were positive they were done with it. 

Once he woke up, Kurt dragged himself to the upstairs den as the Professor had requested. When he got there, he saw that he was the last of the students to arrive. Kurt slumped into a spot on the couch and looked around. Everyone else seemed as tired as he was. Rogue's face was paler than usual. Kitty wasn't talking a mile a minute. She wasn't talking at all, actually. Evan just sat and sipped on a glass of milk. Jean sat alone in the corner of the room. Her eyes were red and puffy, a hint that she had spent most of the night crying in her bed. Finally, the Professor came in the room.

"I want to thank you all for coming here. I know that this is going to be difficult, but I think we all need to talk about last night."

"Do they know anything else about what happened?" asked Evan.

The Professor hesitated for a second before answering. "Yes, they do."

"Well can ya tell us?"

He sighed. He had kept secrets from them before and it had always cost them. He decided not to make the same mistake again. "They are charging Scott with first-degree murder. A hearing is set for tomorrow to decide if he'll be allowed bond or not, but the police seem to think he won't get it. He's in the Blackwall Detention Center right now and will probably stay there until the trial."

"Can we visit him?" asked Jean.

"I would rather you not," said the Professor slowly, knowing that the students wouldn't like that rule.

"Vhy not?!" asked Kurt with a sense of hurt in his voice.

"During the interrogations last night," explained the Professor, "Scott was forced to tell the detectives that he's a mutant. He explained to them just what mutants are and what his powers are. I'm afraid it's possible that people will begin to put two and two together and realize that we are all mutants if we're not careful. It is for this reason that I think you all should not draw any strong connections between yourselves and him. Also, if too many people visited him too often, I'm afraid the police would get suspicious of a conspiracy. They might start asking more questions about where all of you were last night. Even if they figure out that we're mutants, we must not let them learn about the X-Men as well."

The students all nodded. The logic made sense, no matter how much it hurt. Nonetheless, they all felt completely cut off from their friend now.

"So what do they know about the murder itself?" asked Evan.

"Duncan was shot and killed at about 8:50 last night while all of you were fighting the Brotherhood. The gun was found in the woods outside the mansion early this morning. They've looked at the Institute's phone records and it seems a call was made to Duncan's house at 8:10, probably inviting him to the mansion. The police were called at 8:50 by Duncan just before he was killed. When the officers arrived here, they found Scott trying to move Duncan's body. He was immediately arrested and taken into custody."

Silence took over the room as everyone sat and thought about the timeline that the Professor had just given them. They had left the mansion at 7:30 and hadn't been back until after 9:00. They all had to admit that there was plenty of time to commit the murder.

"Man," said Evan, "he almost got away with it! If he had just done it sooner no one would have known."

Silence grasped the room again, but it was a different type of silence this time. Everyone turned to stare at Evan with an awkward sense of shock.

"Vhat?!" cried Kurt, penetrating the silence. His jaw hung as low as it could go and he was visibly angered by the accusation. "Vhat do you mean he almost got avay vith it? Do you really zink Zcott iz capable ov zis?"

"Dude," said Evan defensively, "I'm just sayin' that he had the opportunity."

"Zat's not vhat I asked," said Kurt angrily. "Do you zink Zcott iz guilty?"

Evan looked around at the faces in the room. Some were angry. Some almost looked sympathetic. All were shocked. 

"I don't know man. I mean, it's still too soon to tell."

Kurt jumped to his feet. "Vell let me explain zomething to you. Zcott iz not a murderer!"

"Kurt! Please sit down," said Xavier. He had resolved not to let this meeting get out of hand.

Kurt's eyes glanced over at the Professor but soon returned to Evan, who seemed frightened at Kurt's outburst. He gathered his thoughts and sat back down. 

"I'm zorry, Provezzor."

"That's okay, Kurt. But please try to remain calm. Now then Evan, you clearly think that Scott is guilty. Why?"

Evan glanced around nervously. "You want me to say why I think he's guilty?"

"Yes. I think we all need to talk through whatever we're feeling right now and that seems like a good place to start," said the Professor kindly. He didn't want to intimidate Evan out of his speaking his true thoughts.

"Okay, if you say so Prof. For starters, he was mad when we left. I mean, he refused to come with us 'cause he said he didn't care what happened to the school. He had an hour and a half to do it before anybody saw him again. And we all know he's always hated Duncan. They've practically been tryin' to kill each other at least since I got here! That's motive and opportunity right there."

Kurt squirmed in his seat, but a look from the Professor told him to keep quiet until it was his turn. 

"Fair enough," said the Professor. He turned to Kitty now, who was sitting next to Evan. "Kitty, what are your thoughts?"

The girl seemed surprised to have been called on. "I don't know. I mean, like Evan said, he had motive and opportunity. But it just seems so completely out of character for him to just kill Duncan like that, y'know. I mean, sure he didn't like Duncan but you don't just kill someone because you don't get along with them! Right?"

"That's very true, Kitty." Of course, the Professor and Jean knew more about Scott's possible motive than the rest of the X-Men did. "Rogue, what about you?" The Professor was simply turning to each student in the order that they were sitting in the circle in the den. 

"Ah don't know," said Rogue after some hesitation. "Ah guess what Evan said is true. He coulda done it. But it jus' doesn't make sense to me. But then again, he _was_ really mad an' Ah saw him in that fight with Duncan at school. There was this, Ah don't know, this rage in him. Ah mean, ya got the feelin' from watchin' him that he would've killed Duncan right then and there if he could've. But Scott's not exactly the type o' guy to jus' act without thinkin' of the consequences, y'know? Ah don't know, Professor. The whole thing's confusin'."

"That's fine, Rogue. It is confusing," said the Professor. Again he sensed something deep inside Rogue that she wasn't expressing. It was a strange mixture of sadness and fear. Sure, it was to be expected that she'd be upset by the incident but her feelings were still strange to the Professor. He had never noticed her feeling such ways about anyone else before. He now turned slowly to the redhead on his right. "Jean, what about you?"

Everyone turned their attention to the oldest student in the room. They knew that if anyone would be attached to all this, it'd be her. Afterall, she had dated Duncan for a whole year and now he was dead! But at the same time, she and Scott had always been close friends. They were all interested to hear her opinions on the matter.

"I think we don't know enough to tell one way or the other yet," she said after a moment's pause. "Sure, Duncan and Scott never got along at all, but that doesn't mean Scott would kill him. But we have to admit that all the evidence seems to point to Scott. I guess what I'm saying is we can't rule out the possibility that Scott's guilty no matter how much it hurts to think he might have done this."

Xavier nodded. "And Kurt?"

Kurt looked around the room and huffed. "I can't believe any ov you could zink Zcott could do zis. He'z our vriend and ve should know him vell enough to know zat he vould never do anyzing like zis. Zcott iz innocent. I know it! And I'm azhamed that you guyz zink he might be guilty."

Kurt and Scott had been best friends since Kurt's arrival at the mansion. Everyone knew that. Scott had been the first to accept Kurt's appearance and they had forged a strong relationship in the last few months. Still, while the other students and the Professor admired Kurt's loyalty, they were afraid that he believed in Scott's innocence blindly without even considering the facts.

"Oh," said Kurt almost as an afterthought as he raised up one finger from his two-digit hand, "and I zink Evan haz been vatching too many myztery movies." Kurt glared at Evan as he said this, an expression that was quickly returned from the other boy. 

"Well, thank you for all being honest," said the Professor, trying to intervene before Kurt and Evan broke into a fight right there. "I think it's time we all went down for breakfast now."

"What about you, Professor?" asked Rogue before anyone could stand up. "What do you think?"

Xavier looked around at his students and sighed. He didn't want to admit what he thought. Scott had been his student longer than any of the teens in the room with him at the moment. He viewed Scott as a son and the pain of this whole situation had been banging on his heart since he'd first heard the news the night before. "I'm afraid I agree with Jean," he said finally. "I hate to admit that there's even a chance that Scott is guilty of this crime, but the evidence is there whether I like it or not. As much as I'd like to, I can't rule out the possibility quite yet."

A huff from Kurt told everyone what he was thinking. 

"Zo I'm ze only one who ztill zinks he's innocent?"

The X-Men each picked a spot on the carpet to become absolutely enthralled with as Kurt's angry gaze passed over each of them individually.

"Vine, but you'll all zee when ze trial comes."

The Professor sighed gently. "Kurt, I hope you're right."


	5. In Memoriam

**A/N:** Finally! After nearly a month of the world conspiring against this story, I'm back!!! I won't go into the details of how I worked my problems out because chances are you don't care. However, I do want to say thank you to Lyranfan and Collabo who both volunteered to help me get everything online sooner. In the end things worked out so that I had to figure it out myself but I appreciate your kindness anyway. So, now we can finally get on with the fic! I suppose this chapter really isn't the best one to follow up a month long absence with, but it's the next chapter regardless. I hope you all enjoy it!

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The kids returned to school on Monday of the next week. Logan and Ororo were both back. The police tape was gone. Things almost felt like normal again. Almost.

Things would have been more normal if it had been a normal school day. But it wasn't. Today was a special day at BHS. On this day there was a memorial ceremony held in the memory of Duncan Matthews. If the Professor had known this was happening, he would have waited one more day before he sent the kids back to school. But fate didn't work out that way.

The whole day seemed to be a buildup to the afternoon memorial. The first sign the X-Men noticed that things were different when they arrived at school was that a lot of kids were wearing black, many more than normal. From there, things just compounded to make their first day back a miserable one.

When Jean got to her first period class, her friends all sat around her to comfort her. Unfortunately, none of them really knew what they were talking about.

"Look Jean, I'm really sorry about Duncan," said Taryn. "We were all friends with him, but we know this is a lot harder on you."

"I still can't believe this is happening," said another girl named Rachel. "I hope that Summers kid rots in jail for this!"

Jean looked up in surprise at the vicious comment. "We don't know for sure that Scott did it."

"Oh c'mon, Jean! The whole world knows it was him!" said Taryn.

Jean was shocked to hear people talk about Scott like so. He had never been incredibly popular, but he was pretty well liked. It just seemed wrong to hear people who had always treated Scott well saying he should rot in jail.

"Look, I know Scott better than most people and I'm not convinced it was him."

"Oh yeah, you live with him, don't you!" said Rachel. "I forgot about that. Wow, I guess that kinda puts a whole new perspective on this."

The three girls sat in silence for a moment, Rachel and Taryn shocked at Jean's compassion for Scott, and Jean shocked at Rachel and Taryn's speed to blame him.

"Jean, you have to admit that he looks pretty guilty," said Taryn, one hand reaching out to Jean's shoulder.

Jean shook her head as she turned back to look at the chalkboard in the front of the room. "Yeah, I know," she whispered back.

Kitty and Rogue had both been pestered with questions throughout their first classes. But they had the same second period class and both were relieved to be able to find comfort in each other's presence. When they arrived in class though, they immediately had to start fielding questions from the students who hadn't seen any of the other of the Institute's students yet that morning.

"Did Scott really do it?"

"Did he really have a bomb strapped to his chest?"

"How much blood was there?"

"Did he do it alone or did someone help him?"

"How many times did Scott shoot him?"

"I heard he killed three cops too!"

"Is it true he got shot in the stomach by the cops when they arrested him?"

Finally, Rogue had had it! She had suffered through these questions throughout first period and was not about to listen to it over and over again for the rest of the day. She dropped her books on the floor and cried out at the top of her lungs. "Would all of you jus' shut up an' leave us alone!"

The room was instantly quiet, including the teacher. Rogue glanced around and controlled herself.

"We don't know anything, so don' ask."

Rogue and Kitty then quickly made their way through the crowd of silent students and sat down at their desks. They had hoped they could just come to school and no one would bother them. Clearly they had hoped wrong.

At lunch, Kitty and Kurt found each other and made their way to their normal table, which had thankfully not been stolen by another group of kids during their week-long absence. They sat down and began nibbling on their meals. Neither was really that hungry.

Kurt's day had been every bit as annoying as Kitty, Rogue, and Jean's. The whole morning had been nothing but stupid questions, infuriating accusations of Scott, and misguided attempts at comfort. To be honest, Kurt wasn't sure he could handle it much longer. There had been many times that he had considered ducking into the bathroom and porting away.

Kurt and Kitty shared their meal quietly. They hadn't been sitting at the table for very long before Evan came to join them. Like the other X-Men, his day was going horribly and he was looking forward to having lunch with people who weren't going to ask if it was true that Scott had sliced Duncan's body in half with a samurai sword.

Unfortunately, he and Kurt still weren't getting along well. They were still friends, but they had both said some pretty hurtful things that neither was quite able to forget. Despite the months they'd spent as good friends, a definite rift had been forged between the two teenage mutants that seemed to grow every day.

"Well, well. It's the X-geeks finally back at school!" came the voice of Pietro from behind them as Evan sat down.

Kurt, Kitty, and Evan all sighed as they turned around and faced the approaching Brotherhood.

"Yeah, we didn't think you guys would ever be back!" said Toad.

"Shut up, Pietro," said Evan angrily. "I'm not in the mood!"

"Yeah, like, leave us alone, guys!" said Kitty quickly while returning to her lunch.

"C'mon Kitty," said Lance. "We're not gonna give you a hard time about it. That Matthews guy was always giving us trouble. Frankly, I'm glad he's gone! Summers did us all a favor if ya ask me!"

Kurt jumped out of his chair and turned around to face Lance. He was so fast that only Pietro's eyes were able to follow his movements. The others didn't know what was happening until Kurt was face to face with Lance, his hands gripping the boy's shirt.

"He didn't do it," said Kurt, nearly under his breath. His nostrils flared a little as his gaze seemed to bore straight through Lance's skull.

Lance brushed Kurt's hands away and took a quick step back from the intimidating figure. "Whoa, calm down man. I didn't know it was a sore spot for ya."

Kurt huffed. "Vhat else vould it be?! He's our friend and he's innocent. So you guys need to back off now!"

The Brotherhood members all shared a quick glance at each other, then turned around and walked away without another word. Kurt sat back down and returned to his meal as if nothing had happened. Kitty and Evan stared at him for a moment, but decided not to mess with him for the time being. They'd let him calm down before trying to talk to him again.

Soon lunch was over and Kurt and Evan walked to their chemistry class, together but not enjoying each other's company. Mr. Gompers was clearly ready to leave teaching behind him. His lessons had always been boring, but it was obvious that he didn't even care about it anymore. His apathy carried over to the students and Kurt and Evan soon found themselves half-asleep. Evan began wondering why all this had happened. Kurt was still trying to calm down from the incident with the Brotherhood.

At 2:15 that afternoon, the whole school assembled in the gym for the Memorial. Two wreaths of flowers were set up at half court with a picture of Duncan smiling in his letter jacket with a football tucked under his arm between the arrangements. The X-Men all found each other before the assembly began and decided to sit together. Everyone in school had seemed to feel bad for them all day and had tried to comfort them whether they needed it or not, but now as people found themselves looking at the picture of Duncan, the X-Men were beginning to feel out of place. They kept catching glances that suggested they were somehow to blame for this! They had practically been forced into the top corner of the bleachers for fear of the harsh looks from the other students.

Once everyone was there, Ms. Darkholme walked to mid-court and began speaking into the microphone.

"Hello everyone. Thank you for coming. As you all know, Bayville High School lost one of its best students exactly one week ago. Duncan Matthews was a bright star among his peers. He was a beloved friend to many of us and a great student. His athleticism made him one of the best quarterbacks in Bayville history and his scholastic achievement continued the excellent standards he set for himself on the field."

A few chuckles could be heard from smirking students around the gym at that comment. Everyone felt awful about Duncan's death, but it was no secret that he was far from being a good student. Ms. Darkholme ignored the stifled laughs and went on.

"Duncan's achievements brought glory to him and his school. Sadly, his life ended far too early at the hands of a cold-blooded killer."

The X-Men all gasped. Everyone in the room quickly turned their heads up to glare at them. Kurt was fuming. He kept control of his temper though and Ms. Darkholme soon continued on with her speech."

"But out of this tragedy, a new day will rise for the school that Duncan loved. In honor of his memory, the football field will now officially be known as Matthews Stadium. His spirit will forever hover around the place that he loved to be more than any other place on Earth. We will never forget the memory of Duncan Matthews."

The audience clapped at the name change. It was a fitting memorial to Duncan. After all, his football skills had been his best attribute by far.

"Now," said Ms. Darkholme when the applause had died down, "I'd like to introduce Coach Coleman who wants to say a few words."

The football coach made his way to the center of the court and began giving another speech. He talked about what a great person Duncan had been and all the potential that he had. Finally, he had an announcement to make as well. Duncan's football number would be retired so that no Bayville player would ever wear the number 8 again. This, of course, drew applause from the crowd as well.

Next up on the agenda were a few of Duncan's friends and teammates who all said pretty much the same thing. He was a great guy who didn't deserve to die so young. Maybe the rest of the students could learn from his example. A few girls stood up to speak but were overcome by tears so only their sobs were heard. It was the typical speeches that everyone had expected to hear.

Finally, at 3:00, school was released and everyone went home. The X-Men were the first ones out the door. It had been a long day and they were just ready to get home where no one would give them any trouble about Duncan or Scott.


	6. Life in the Darkness

**A/N: **Wow, no reviews? The last chapter wasn't great by any means but I didn't think it was that bad. Oh well. I'll give everyone the benefit of the doubt and assume you didn't know there was a new chapter. Anyway, I am back and I do still crave reviews so send 'em in!

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They say jail isn't really that bad. They say that it's a solid roof over your head and 3 decent meals a day. And if you were homeless or just completely poor, maybe jail wouldn't be that bad to you. But for Scott, who had lived in the Xavier Institute for 2 years now, jail was the worst place he'd ever been. For people like Scott, jail could be a life changing experience. It could change your entire personality if you let it. Scott had been in the Blackwall Detention Center for 9 days now. The bullying from the other inmates was constant. They especially liked to yell at Scott for his glasses, which had been secured to his head so he couldn't take them off and blast through a wall. Scott had his own cell to himself, which he was thankful for. The other inmates were ruthless. They knew he was a mutant and that didn't help matters. He endured persecution like he had never imagined. He had been called names that he had never heard of before. Twice, one large inmate named Ridge had tried to pick a fight with him at lunch. Ridge was the biggest guy in Blackwall and was therefore the leader of the inmates. Scott refused to fight him both times and the guards had broken things up when Ridge got ugly, but Scott knew that eventually he would have to fight to protect his own life, which he didn't mind really. He had trained enough with the X-Men that he was confident he could handle anybody in Blackwall, including Ridge. He knew he couldn't count on the guards to pull Ridge away from him forever and so he had begun watching the large inmate's movements, sizing up exactly how the fight would happen and what the best way to take the man down was. He knew that eventually Ridge would buy off a guard to get a good crack at Scott. Frankly, the guards were easy to bribe and couldn't be expected to keep order. Besides, most of the guards were more scared of Ridge than any of the inmates!

Scott was sitting in his dark cell when one of the guards, a man named Wallace who Scott knew was the dirtiest guard in the facility and probably the one Ridge would buy off, came to his door.

"Get up, Summers. You got a visitor."

Scott looked up at the man's face. Wallace looked like he belonged on the other side of the bars with his rough face, mangled by one too many bar fights. Scott stood up as Wallace unlocked the cell.

"Who is it?"

"Don't know. Don't care. Just follow me."

Scott allowed Wallace to put a pair of handcuffs on his wrists and then the two left the cell behind with Scott in the lead. Scott walked slowly. Time spent out of his cell was precious and he wasn't going to waste one second. He wasn't claustrophobic, but his 6x6 foot cell was a little cramped for him. He had thought several times that Storm could never make it in here.

They passed Ridge's cell, where Scott was met with calls of "mutant scum" and "yer time's comin'." He'd heard it before and brushed the comments off without acknowledging Ridge, which he knew would infuriate him.

Finally, they reached a metal door on the bottom level of the jail and Wallace opened it to let Scott through. He stepped out of the dim jailhouse and found himself in a much brighter room with a small table and a chair beside it. Professor Xavier was already sitting at the table in his wheelchair.

"Professor!" cried Scott in surprise when he saw his mentor waiting on him.

"Good afternoon, Scott. How are you doing?"

Wallace led him to the chair and turned to leave the room.

"Fifteen minutes," he said gruffly.

Scott nodded at Wallace and turned to face the Professor as the guard closed the door behind him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, much more subdued now.

"I wanted to check on you. I hadn't seen you since the arraignment a week ago."

"You were there? I didn't see you," said Scott, slightly surprised. The arraignment had gone badly. Xavier had hired an excellent lawyer, but it didn't matter. The judge had ruled that he would remain in Blackwall until the trial and that he would not be released on bail. The trial date still hadn't been set.

"Yes, I was there," said the Professor. "I tried to get to talk to you, but the media prevented me."

Just days after the murder, the Bayville police had announced that Scott was a mutant, officially breaking the secret of mutantkind and exposing them to the world. Immediately, scientists began showing up on TV to debate the scientific consequences of mutants' existence. The news crews had been having a field day and had covered Scott's arraignment with incredible excitement at the proposition of having a new "trial of the century" on their hands. Cameras had been banned from the courtroom and the judge had instilled a strict gag order after the hysteria following the announcement that Scott was a mutant. But inside the courtroom everyone could still here the bustle of anxious reporters waiting just outside the doors for the ruling. By now, everyone in the world knew what mutants were and that Scott Summers was one. There was a lot of fear from people, but so far nothing had really happened due to it. Mutants weren't being hunted, at least not yet, and though the news stations talked about mutants and how dangerous they might be constantly, there was no panic gripping the nation. However, the fact that a young mutant was going on trial for murdering a young human spoke volumes to many people. They saw Scott's case as proof of the dangers posed to humans by mutants.

"How are things back home?" asked Scott.

"Complicated. We're all worried about you, Scott."

"Don't be. I'm fine. How's Jean doing?"

The Professor hesitated for a moment, which told Scott what he'd feared.

"She's as good as can be expected. She seems depressed sometimes, but that's completely understandable."

"Yeah," said Scott thoughtfully. His speech was slow, as if he had nowhere to go, which in fact he didn't. "So how about everyone else?"

"Some are doing better than others," replied the Professor. "We'll be all right though." Xavier didn't want to tell Scott about the fight between Kurt and Evan. That would require telling him what their disagreement was about and he just couldn't tell Scott about that without making him worry and blame himself for things that were out of his control. "Scott, we need to talk."

Scott leaned forward a little, placing his chained wrists on the table. "Sure. What is it?"

"I was wondering if you could tell me exactly what happened the night of the murder."

The two fell into a short silence as they looked at each other sitting across the table. Scott seemed content to just sit quietly. His face didn't reveal anything to Xavier. It was like his face had frozen permanently into a tight frown.

"Everything changed the night of the murder," said Scott after a while. "Mutants were revealed to the world and we presented ourselves as a dangerous group. Plus the X-Men's secret may have been revealed. They don't know yet, but they will if they snoop around long enough. The whole world changed that night."

Xavier was surprised by the answer. Everything Scott had said was true, but it wasn't really what he was asking.

"Yes, Scott. But I meant what did you do that night. Where did you go? How did you end up alone with Duncan at the mansion?"

Scott's face twisted into an angry frown. "You think I'm guilty?"

"No," said the Professor quickly. "I'm just trying to find out what really happened."

"And right now you're trying to rule me off the suspect list," said Scott as he leaned back and crossed his arms tightly.

The Professor sighed. "Yes, I guess that is what I'm doing. I'm sorry Scott but I have to ask the question."

Scott didn't respond. He just sat perfectly still in his chair and looked off to the corner of the room. The Professor watched him, hoping he would eventually answer. It was soon clear that Scott wasn't going to say anything more. Xavier hadn't wanted to do this, but he had no choice anymore. The guard would be coming to get Scott soon. He focused on Scott's mind and began sifting through his memories to see if Scott was guilty or not. He had to know! He hadn't been looking for long before Scott's thoughts rang out to him loudly, effectively preventing him from probing further.

"I need you to do something for me," said Scott telepathically.

The Professor looked at his young student carefully. What could he need that he couldn't say out loud? He replied back telepathically to him. "What is it, Scott?"

"This is important, but please don't ask me why. I won't tell you," said Scott.

"I'll do whatever you need."

Wallace barged through the door just then and walked towards Scott, his keys jingling at his side.

"C'mon, Summers. Visiting time is over."

Scott stood up, his face still turned to the Professor. As Wallace led him out of the room, Scott made his request to the Professor silently. He watched Xavier's face look back at him quizzically. He clearly didn't understand why Scott wanted this, but he quickly replied that he would do it. The two nodded to each other and then the Professor was left alone in the room. He turned his wheelchair around, rolled it out the other door, and was led back to the lobby where Ororo was waiting on him.

"How's Scott?" she asked when Xavier returned.

"I can't tell," said the Professor. "He's…different. It just didn't seem like him."

When they got to the car, away from the intruding ears of prison guards, Ororo pressed for more details.

"So what do you mean he's different?"

"He's changed. Whatever happened that night, it has changed his personality entirely. He acted more like Logan than himself!"

"Like Logan? That's impossible. Scott's such a kind, sweet kid."

"Yes, but he's a kind and sweet kid that has been accused of murder and put in prison. And believe me, from what I saw that place can change you forever."

"So was it prison or the murder that changed him?" asked Ororo as she started the car and drove off.

Xavier pondered the question for a moment. "I'm not sure."


	7. Nighttime Expedition

**A/N: **Hey! Thanks for all the reviews. Looks like all I have to do is gripe and the reviews flood in! I do have an apology to make though. I did receive one review for chapter 5 from Wen. In fact, Wen is one of my most loyal readers on this fic and has sent me an in depth review of every chapter via email. Sorry Wen. I just wasn't thinking when I said "no reviews." Anyway, sorry this chapter is a little late getting up. I went out of town last week and didn't get back in until yesterday afternoon. But hey, the chapter's up now and we can all be happy again.

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Two weeks after the murder, things were far from quiet at the mansion. The phone rang constantly with reporters wanting an interview with Scott, Xavier, or anyone else from the Institute. The police had stopped calling, which was good because it meant the X-Men didn't have to deal with their questions anymore, but on the other hand it meant that the police felt they had all the evidence they needed to convict Scott. The X-Men were very thankful that the BPD was done asking questions though. They had managed to keep the X-Men a secret. The police had no idea what sorts of bunkers were hidden below the mansion. They didn't even know that the rest of the Institute's residents were mutants like Scott! It had been tough, but the X-Men had all managed to keep their cool and protect the secret perfectly.

But despite this victory, the kids were not getting along well. Kurt's attitude toward the rest of the team had changed. His refusal to accept Scott's possible guilt was causing him to separate from the rest of the X-Men. He was slowly finding himself more and more detached from the group. Everyone else noticed this, but felt there was little they could do to stop it. As time went on, Kurt's faith in Scott's innocence only grew so that soon he decided to take it upon himself to prove that Scott was not guilty since the police clearly had made up their minds already.

On the two week anniversary of the murder, Kurt waited until close to 2:00 at night and then teleported from his room to the kitchen. Everyone else was asleep, but he was careful not to make any noise if he could avoid it. The X-Men had stayed out of the kitchen as much as possible. All the food had been moved to the downstairs kitchen area and no one ate in the dining room anymore. To be honest, no one wanted to be in the room where "it" had happened.

Kurt tiptoed to the place on the floor where Duncan had been found. There was a faint red coloring still in the tile floor where he had lay. Most of the blood had been cleaned up, but the floor was forever stained. The Professor had already made arrangements to have it replaced soon. But for now Kurt could still inspect the scene of the crime as it had been the night it happened.

There were three small holes in the floor. Kurt examined the bullet holes, but he didn't know enough about guns to tell anything from them. He looked around the room, but everything else seemed normal. Nothing in the kitchen had been disturbed by Duncan or his attacker. Kurt spent a few more minutes looking around the room, but it was clear there was nothing to find here that the police hadn't already found. Kurt sighed. Hopefully tonight's expedition wouldn't remain this uneventful. He had struck out at the crime scene, but he had two more places on his list to inspect.

Kurt closed his eyes and ported to the mansion's front gates. He was in his uniform and wasn't wearing his image inducer. After all, he figured he would blend in with the night sky best if his body appeared dark blue. He began teleporting away from the Institute's grounds, porting farther and farther away until he found himself outside Duncan's house near the edge of town. He stood on the sidewalk and looked at the house for a moment. The lights were out and the house seemed cold and quiet. Duncan's parents hadn't taken his death very well. Kurt didn't want to meet the parents who could have. It had been long enough now that no one was bringing food to them anymore and they were only now beginning to move on with their lives. Kurt took a deep breath, picked a dark window, and ported inside the house.

By luck, he found himself standing inside Duncan's old room. The bed had been made at some point and the room seemed clean. Surely Duncan hadn't been this much of a neat freak! He figured Mrs. Matthews had cleaned the room thoroughly since Duncan's death. Kurt began walking around the room slowly, careful not to cause any noise that would attract the attention of the man and woman downstairs. He sifted through Duncan's belongings for about 30 minutes before deciding there was nothing useful here. Mrs. Matthews had cleaned the room of any evidence that may have been left lying around. He sighed again. Strike two.

But just as Kurt was about to port away, he noticed Duncan's computer sitting on the desk beside the bed. He sat down in the small office chair and turned the computer on. Once it started up, he began searching the memory. He didn't really know what he was looking for, but he hadn't come all the way here in the middle of the night to find absolutely nothing of any use. He sorted through Duncan's collection of mp3s and games before stumbling across a lone document titled _Fun with Mutants_.

"Vhat have ve here?" whispered Kurt to himself as he opened the document. What appeared on the screen was a list of what looked like goals Duncan had set for himself. First on the list was "manipulate conference into making me MVP." Kurt scrolled down in shock as he realized that each item on the list could be accomplished with the help of a telepath.

"Pass the SAT by making Jean tell me the answers."

"Pass Chemistry."

"Pass Trigonometry."

"Be first senior class to ever get away with a senior prank by making Jean mess with Darkholme's mind."

The list went on and on and each item was more shallow than the last. Finally, Kurt checked the properties for the document. It had been created and the day before Duncan was killed! He printed the list quickly and put it in a small compartment on his belt, then ported out of the house.

So far, Kurt had managed to find one piece of evidence in the hour he'd been gone from the mansion. He knew he didn't have much longer so he hurried to his last stop, the Bayville Police Station, to sort through the gathered evidence.

Again, he was able to port inside the building without being noticed, but he had no idea where the evidence room was. Kurt began roaming the halls quietly. It was late at night so there shouldn't be anyone here, but he couldn't take any chances. He soon realized that he was in a hallway full of offices. He scanned the doors for a familiar name until he found one labeled "Lt. Frank Varley." Kurt recognized the name as the man who had interviewed he and the other X-Men the night of the murder. He glanced around and ported inside the room.

Lt. Varley's office was clean, no mess at all. He hadn't left papers on the desk or anything like that to make things easy on Kurt, but he had left his filing cabinet unlocked. Kurt opened the drawer labeled "Open Cases" and began rummaging through the files until he found the one marked "Summers, Scott."

"Jackpot!" he said to himself as he pulled the file out of the drawer and opened it. Inside were lots of pieces of paper. He sat down at Varley's desk and spread the papers out in front of him. The first page consisted of Scott's mug shots. Somehow it just seemed strange to Kurt to see a guy wearing sunglasses in his mug shot! He moved on to the next page and found a description of the crime.

"Victim called 911 at 8:50 PM and officers reported to Xavier Institute. They found the suspect kneeling over the DOA and trying to move him. Suspect was apprehended and taken to HQ. Baker and Miller interrogated. Suspect apparently killed victim over a girl from school."

Kurt read the short description with interest. He began to wonder why Scott was moving the body when he noticed something else in the corner of his eye. Varley had made an extra note at the bottom of the page in all capitals and underlined it.

"SUMMERS IS MUTANT!!! TELL MEDIA!!! THEY'LL LOVE IT!!! "

It sounded to Kurt as if Varley had purposely made this case a huge media event! Now that he thought about it, it had been Varley who had first made the announcement to the media that Scott was a mutant and it had been Varley who had fielded the questions about what that meant. Varley had made numerous appearances on national news programs to talk about Scott and the case and mutants in general.

"He's trying to get famous off the case!" said Kurt out loud. He was immediately sickened. He threw the paper down on the desk in disgust and moved on to page three.

The next sheet of paper in the folder was the phone records from the mansion that night. Kurt pulled it out and looked at the sheet. According to the records, a call had been made to Duncan's house from the mansion at 8:10, about forty minutes after the other X-Men had left to fight the Brotherhood.

"Vhich explains vhy Duncan's car was there and vhy he came to the mansion in the first place," said Kurt, thinking aloud.

He moved on to the next page and found a list of tangible evidence gathered. He read each item slowly, memorizing it for future reference.

EVIDENCE 

1 .22 caliber handgunwith fingerprints matching those of suspect

6 bullets. 3 from victim's body and 3 from floor. All match gun signature. 2 other bullets were fired, but were unrecognizable.

1 surveillance tape. Acquired from Jerry's Gun and Pawn Shop.

Kurt reread the last line again. He hadn't heard anything about a surveillance tape from a gun shop. He quickly began reading through all the other papers until he a found a small note that had been made recently. Varley had scribbled the note himself on a yellow Post-it and stuck it on the last sheet of paper in the folder. 

"Baker has gun shop tape. DA wants a copy by Friday."

Kurt hurriedly put all the sheets of paper in order and slipped them back into their folder, which he then returned to the exact same place in the filing cabinet that it had been in earlier. Then he ported from the room and began looking for an office for a "Baker."

He walked down the hallway until he got to the stairs without seeing a door that said Baker on it. He turned around and went back toward where he had first come in. Maybe he had turned the wrong way out of Varley's office. He reread all the labels as he walked back to the other end of the hallway. He passed Varley's door again and began paying close attention to all the labels. Finally, at the very end of the hallway, he found one marked "Det. Ed Baker." He breathed a sigh of relief and ported into the room.

Baker's office was not as clean as Varley's. In fact, it was downright messy. Finding a tape in here would not have been easy, except that there was a TV and VCR in the corner of the room. Kurt checked and, by sheer luck, there was a tape marked "SUMMERS" inside the VCR. He turned the TV on and pushed play.

The tape was grainy. Like most surveillance cameras, the time and date were in the corner of the screen and the picture had no color. It was all black and white. The camera was mounted over the head of the man at the cash register. Nothing happened for a moment. The man at the desk was busying himself with marking prices on some of his merchandise. Then a teenage boy wearing dark sunglasses walked into view. There was no doubt about the identity. It was definitely Scott on the tape. He stopped at the desk and began talking to the owner. There was no audio, but Scott was clearly looking at the handguns in the glass case. Kurt watched in shock for ten minutes as Scott talked to the man. Finally, the owner pulled the gun out of its case and they returned to the cash register where Scott paid for the gun with cash. He bought some bullets as well and then left the store. The tape cut off soon afterwards.

Kurt stared blankly at the screen for several minutes. The date on the camera had been the same day as the murder. The time had said 7:58 PM when Scott left the store. That was just 12 minutes before the 911 call. Kurt started the tape again. It was definitely Scott. And there he was buying a gun. Kurt began scrounging around the office until he found another tape. It had a label on it and he was sure it was evidence for another case, but Kurt didn't care. He copied the surveillance tape onto it and fixed any mess he might have made while searching through Detective Baker's office. Then he grabbed his copied tape and teleported out of the building. Slowly, he returned to the mansion. Even he had to admit that the evidence against Scott was strong. Maybe too strong.


	8. Fighting For Survival

**A/N:** Alright folks, here's the latest chapter. Personally, this is one of my favorites of everything I've written so far. Hope you like it as well!

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Scott sat on the edge of his cot and stared at the wall across from him. He listened to the lights shut off outside his cell. The main lights that lit the entire wing were very similar to the type of lights that they use at football stadiums so he could literally hear them shut off as the darkness suddenly engulfed everything around him. The dark came on him quickly. Just like every night at 11:00, the guards turned off all the main lights without warning. And since inmates weren't allowed to wear watches, Scott never knew it was coming until it had already come. Now the only light he had was the dim 20 watt bulb recessed into the ceiling of his cell. There was an opaque plastic cover that kept him away from the bulb so that the yellow light it produced was filtered and barely noticeable. It didn't allow even enough light to read by, which was fine since Scott had nothing to read.

In fact, he had absolutely nothing to occupy the majority of his time, regardless of day or night. His cell had no window, only a cot chained to the wall and a stainless steel toilet in the opposite corner. It was nearly enough to drive a man crazy. It was definitely enough to change a man forever.

Time passed slowly in Blackwall. Scott didn't know how long he'd been there anymore. The only way he had of marking the days was the knowledge that the lights were turned off at night. Once they were turned back on in the morning, the guards would electronically open the cells and the inmates all went down to breakfast. After that it was back to the cell for a few hours until you were released for lunch. After lunch you were allowed one hour of exercise. Usually this meant going to the gym and lifting weights. Once a week you were allowed outside during this time to enjoy the sunlight of the courtyard. This time was precious and no one ever dared to waste it. Most would stand still with their eyes closed as if soaking up the sunlight that would allow them to survive another week until they returned.

Until then, the inmates were trapped inside the walls of Blackwall Detention Center. The prison had been built over a decade before and signs of wear showed on its walls. At some point in the last three years prison crowding around the state forced Blackwall to hold all prisoners together regardless of their crimes. As a result, people like Scott who were still awaiting trial found themselves in the middle of prisoners who would be spending the rest of their lives behind bars. There were 3 rectangular wings in the facility. Scott was housed in the largest one, known as the Cave due to its cavernous size. There were 5 levels in the Cave with 6x6 cells lining the two longest walls. Catwalks were set up along the front of the cells with waist-high railings to prevent anyone from falling off the side. There was a 50 foot separation between one wall of cells and the other wall with no catwalk connecting the two. That way inmates who associated with rival groups on the outside could be easily separated to avoid gang violence from finding its way inside the prison.

Scott's cell was located on the third level of the Cave, just 12 cells from the end of the row. For most inmates, your friends were the men on your left and right because you can stand next to the wall and talk to each other. Even though you can't see each other's faces while you talk, you can stick your arms through the bars, which gives your neighbor something to talk to. Unfortunately for Scott, becoming friends with the men beside him was not a possibility. The one on his left, Richard Dale, was mute. He had been born with paralyzed vocal cords and had never uttered a single word in his life. He was in Blackwall for shooting a burglar that broke into his house six years before. The man on Scott's right was named Daniel Kozey, a convicted rapist. He hated Scott with a passion. Of course, that was only because everyone else did to.

There was actually only one reason that everyone in the Cave hated Scott. That reason was another inmate by the name of Ridge. Ridge was the undisputed leader of the Cave and no one, not even most of the guards, was willing to stand up to him. For one thing, Ridge was a giant of a man. He was 6'5" and a frightening 230 lbs. He wasn't the strongest of the Cave's inhabitants, but his strength was impressive nonetheless. Scott had been told stories of how Ridge had once broken a man's back with his bare hands. Scott disregarded the stories as mere attempts at intimidation, but they were still unnerving anyway. Ridge had made it clear to everyone that he didn't like Scott. He had even challenged the young mutant to fight him a few times at various meals, but the challenge was never accepted and the guards always turned up when things got too heated between the two. But Scott knew that Ridge was pretty chummy with a lot of the guards. Ridge's cell was on the same row as Scott's and the young mutant had a hunch that the brute had made plans to force him into a fight soon sometime when the guards couldn't, or at least wouldn't, stop them.

As he lay on his cot, Scott found himself unable to sleep. Instead he lay still and allowed memories of his friends at the mansion to warm his spirits. He remembered the first time he had met Xavier, Storm, and Wolverine. He was in a hospital when they found him with Cerebro and came to get him. Scott smiled as he remembered how Logan had intimidated the doctor into letting them take Scott home with them. That was when he'd been given his first ruby visor. He had actually had to lift that first visor off of his face to fire a blast of any kind. Of course, it had been better than the glasses that were currently strapped to his head in a way so that he couldn't remove them at all.

His memories suddenly fast forwarded to the day he'd met Jean. Her powers were out of control and so Xavier had gone to help her and had brought Scott, Ororo, and Logan with him. Despite the fact that she had been completely out of control at the time, Scott was immediately infatuated. Over the last year or so that infatuation had grown into something else. He had of course never admitted this to anyone, not even Kurt, but he was in love with Jean. And not that silly high school love that was over in a month. Scott was truly in love with Jean and he knew it. He just wished there was a way to tell her without risking their friendship. His fear was that if he confessed his love to her then she'd be turned away by it and abandon their friendship, and if it was a choice between being friends or nothing at all, he was perfectly content with just being friends.

Suddenly, a noise from down the row drew Scott's attention. He didn't turn his head or make any physical signs of recognition, but his ears immediately perked up and he began listening intently to the quiet around him. When he didn't hear anything, he shook his head and mentally brushed the thoughts away as simple paranoia.

Then he heard a click coming from Kozey's cell. Scott turned his head towards his door now. Something was going on. He just wasn't quite sure what. He stood up and walked to his door, grabbing hold of the bars as he looked through them to see what was happening. He didn't notice anything out of the ordinary, but his vision was cut off to just a couple feet past his cell by his own walls when he tried to look down the row.

Suddenly, he heard a louder click and the door to his cell unlocked in his hands. Scott looked down to his hands as he slid the door back and forth for a moment on its track. The door could only be unlocked electronically from the master switchboard in the guard's office, but it didn't make sense for them to be opening his door now after lights out. There was only one possibility that Scott could think of. He braced his body as he took a step back from the door.

A foot appeared on the catwalk in front of Scott's cell as he stepped back. Soon, Ridge's full body was in clear view. Kozey appeared from the other side of Scott's cell soon after and the two inmates stood silently outside Scott's door for a moment.

"Evenin' Mut," said Ridge. "Mut" was his favorite term for Scott. It came simply from the first three letters of "mutant," but it also served as a convenient canine reference. By now, the whole Cave referred to Scott simply as Mut.

"Hi there, Ridge," snarled Scott from the middle of his cell. His fists were clenched and ready for the attack he had been anticipating since his arrival at Blackwall.

Kozey reached out with a smile and slid Scott's door wide open, allowing Ridge to step inside.

"Tell me somethin' Mut. How come ya don't seem to like me that much? Ya got somethin' against ol' Ridge?" mocked the large man once he was inside the cell. He had a visible smile crossing his face. It was clear Ridge was looking forward to this.

"Never was a fan for pond scum," said Scott. His weight was balanced on both feet evenly, ready to shift to whichever side it needed to avoid Ridge's first attack.

Kozey remained outside the cell, glancing over his shoulders constantly. He was acting as a lookout to keep the clean guards away. Of course, there were very few clean guards in the Cave. Most were easily bribed. Scott knew no one was coming to save him.

Ridge pounded his right fist into his open palm menacingly, drawing Scott's attention back to the intimidating figure. When he was sure he had Scott's undivided attention, the brute reached up and punched his fist through the plastic light cover in Scott's ceiling. Soon the light disappeared completely as Ridge unscrewed the bulb and threw it to the catwalk outside the cell where it shattered.

Scott was in total darkness now, and the red sunglasses didn't exactly help matters. All he could see was a dim crimson silhouette in the shape of Ridge's body. He watched a dark fist raise into the air in front of him. This was it.

"I've been waitin' a long time for this, Mut. Jus' stay still and it'll all be over real soon."

Ridge's right fist flew down at Scott from above. Scott watched it carefully and shifted to his left leg, avoiding the attack. While Ridge was still slightly bent over from the momentum of the punch, Scott lifted his knee into the man's stomach and simultaneously slammed his fist onto the back of Ridge's neck. Ridge fell to the ground quickly with an audible groan. Scott glanced outside the cell to make sure Kozey wasn't about to jump in. But Kozey couldn't see into the cell at all. All he could see was the pitch darkness that began just inches into the small room. Scott turned back to face Ridge again, who was now back on his feet.

"Oh, so yer tougher than ya look, eh Mut?! Well one lucky punch don't mean nothin'!"

This time, there was no light behind Ridge to form a silhouette so Scott didn't know where he was coming from. Scott's eyes darted from side to side, frantically searching for a warning of Ridge's next attack. Suddenly, Ridge's entire body lunged into Scott's and tackled him to the ground. Scott maneuvered his legs underneath Ridge's body and kicked Ridge off of him. He heard the sound of Ridge falling on the concrete floor just a foot away. Scott threw his fists into the air, using the momentum to pull his torso up. Judging Ridge's location by the sound of his fall, Scott put his elbow into Ridge's chest with his full weight flying behind the attack. Ridge let out an only slightly muffled yell as Scott felt a rib crack beneath him.

A fist slammed without warning into the side of Scott's abdomen and sent him somersaulting across the floor, his right hand crashing into the far wall with a loud smack. Scott stayed in a crouching position in the back corner of the cell as he nursed his wounded and bleeding hand. He watched as Ridge's silhouette rose back to its full height. One of the man's large hands rubbed the side of his chest as if easing the pain of the broken rib. He watched silently as Ridge's head turned back and forth in search of Scott.

"Where are ya, Mut?! I'm gonna kill you!"

Scott sprang out of the crouch without a sound and speared Ridge in the chest, knocking him back to the ground again and making sure to make contact with Ridge's injured ribcage. The two wrestled for a short time and jabbed at each other's torsos. Finally, Ridge managed to push Scott towards the front of the cell. Once again, they had traded places and Scott was in the vulnerable position of existing as a visible silhouette. He half-stood into a squat as he braced for the attack. There was no avoiding it. He couldn't see Ridge but the brute could see him and they both knew it. Scott's fists clenched as sweat dropped from his brow and blood trickled from his knuckles. He searched for some sign to give away Ridge's position.

"Ya know, you ain't the first mutie I ever met." Ridge's voice was a low rumble that echoed off the concrete walls. Try as he might, Scott couldn't place the man's location from sound alone.

"Nope, I used to know another one," continued Ridge, his voice dripping with anger. "His name was Tony. I used to think he was a friend of mine. We did a lot of business together, selling drugs on the street. He was good at it too. He told me 'bout his powers one night. Said he could sense a guy's feelings and thoughts. It made him a damn good dealer. Then we got busted one night by some rookie Narc. They wanted us to rat each other out on where the drugs came from and how long we'd been dealin'. 'Course, I wouldn't say nothin' an' I didn't think Tony would neither. But that mutant rat didn't have no loyalty. He told 'em everything for a plea bargain! Now he's back on the streets and I'm spendin' the rest of my life here. I swore to myself if I ever met another mutant I'd rip 'em apart, in honor of Tony. So ya see, Mut? I gotta do this. I swore I would an' I ain't nothin' if not a man of my word. An honest man who wouldn't ever rat out no one 'less he's some sort of lyin' mutant filth! I know what you are, Mut, so jes' sit back an' let it happen. I promise to make it real quick from here on out."

Scott's eyes were still searching for Ridge, trying desperately to follow the voice. Suddenly, he heard a primal scream coming from just inches in front of his face. Scott tried to duck, but it was too late. Ridge's gigantic fist smashed directly into Scott's face. He was knocked backwards into the air, his body still facing squarely into the cell. The force of the blow caused Scott to clench his eyelids in pain. As he fell back to the ground, he opened them to make sure a follow up hit wasn't coming.

The second his eyelids cracked open, a powerful red blast forced its way out. The blast fired into the middle of the cell and landed directly on Ridge's chest as if it had been carefully aimed. The shocked and confused man was sent hurtling through the cell's back concrete wall and fell 3 stories down on the outside of the prison.

Scott clenched his eyes shut, immediately realizing what was happening. Ridge's last punch had shattered his shades and released his powers without any filter at all. As he lay on the ground with his eyes now closed, Scott listened to the sounds of Ridge's fall. Chunks of concrete could be heard bouncing against the outside wall and then finally crashing into the ground nearly 20 feet below. He could hear Kozey's shouts and feel the man's movements as he ran to the hole to check on his friend and leader. Soon, other inmates were crying out to learn what had happened. After that started, it wasn't long before the sounds of the guards pouring out of their control room could be heard. Scott listened to their boots rattling the catwalk as they ran up the stairs. When they reached the third level, Scott could feel the vibrations of their steps as they drew nearer. Finally, he sensed a man right above him. A voice began talking to him. It was the night shift foreman, a man named Mindle.

"Summers? What's goin' on here?! What happened to your shades? Get up!"

Scott began to sit up as the man above him turned and called to another guard.

"Wallace! Find a new pair of shades for Summers!"

Scott was sitting on the edge where the catwalk met his concrete cell floor. He kept his eyes closed as he turned his face towards Mindle.

"They have to be a special kind of sunglasses. Call the Xavier Institute. They'll bring a pair."

There was a short moment of silence before Mindle canceled his order to Wallace. He helped Scott get to his feet and led him down to the Cave's control room.

"Til those glasses get here, you got some serious explainin' to do, kid," he said as he led Scott downstairs.

Scott nodded. "I know. How's Ridge?"

"Huh, Ridge? Damnit! Was this a fight 'tween you and him?!"

"Yeah, is he okay?"

There was a short pause which Scott assumed was caused by Mindle looking back towards his cell.

"Don't know. We'll find out later. For now," Scott heard the squeak of a door opening in front of him and felt Mindle push him into a room, "yer gonna answer some questions, starting with what jus' happened."


	9. Secrets Revealed

**A/N: **Hey! New chapter. Thanks for the reviews. Does it seem like I always say the same  thing? Anyway, I had to delete a review last time that someone posted. Basically, this review said "MOREMOREMORE" and so on. First off, that's not a review. If you're gonna give feedback, at least give me something that says a little more than that…please. Second, the reason I had to delete that review was that there was such a long line of MORE's without a break that it drastically stretched the page out. That gets on everyone's nerves. Anyway, I apologize to Blowfish the Monkey Tamer for deleting your review but it had to be done. So with all that said, on with the story!

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It had been three days since Kurt had broken into the police station. No one had noticed his absence at the mansion and not even the Professor knew he had left that night. Everyday since his covert mission, though, Kurt had spent all his free time contemplating the meaning of the tape he'd found. He had watched it dozens of times by now. He had memorized every minute detail of the tape right down to how much money Scott paid for the gun.

Frankly, the tape concerned him more than he could even admit to himself. It terrified him actually. Each time he watched it, Kurt couldn't help but sense a disturbing hole gnawing through his stomach. That tape meant maybe, just maybe Scott might be guilty! Finally, he realized that he had to let someone else see the tape so he could get their reaction.

Monday afternoon after school, Kurt knocked on Jean's door and waited for her to answer it while he held the tape inside his jacket. Finally, Jean came and opened the door.

"Hey Kurt. What's up?"

"Hi Jean. Can I come in?" he asked anxiously.

Jean nodded slightly and stepped to the side. "Sure Kurt. What do you need?"

Kurt stepped inside Jean's room and shut the door behind him, then locked it.

"Kurt? Is something wrong?" asked Jean. He had been acting strangely paranoid for a few days and now he was locking her door. Jean was completely confused. Frankly, she had been worried about him for a while. Ever since the fight with Evan started Kurt had been acting strange.

"Jah, I'm fine. I just want to show you something but I don't want anyone else to see it," said the boy as he pulled the tape out of his jacket.

"Okay," said Jean, grabbing her VCR remote and turning on the video player. "What is it?"

"First," said Kurt as he slipped the tape into the VCR, "don't ask me vhere I got this. I can't tell you."

"Um, okay." He was definitely acting paranoid. Jean began to seriously worry about Kurt's state of mind. He was taking all the events of the last two weeks even harder than her!

Kurt finally hit play and stepped back to sit down on Jean's bed. She watched the TV screen with curiosity and sat next to Kurt on the bed. She didn't know what she had been expecting, but the picture that appeared before her was not it. It was a video from a surveillance camera at some store! She turned to Kurt with a puzzled look.

"Like I said, don't ask vhere I got it," he said calmly, his eyes never leaving the screen.

Jean sighed and turned back to the TV. After a moment, a teenage boy wearing sunglasses appeared and started talking to the man behind the counter. She leaned closer to the TV.

"Is that Scott?"

"Jah. Keep vatching."

She watched closely as Scott and the cashier moved to a case of guns and kept talking. Just a few minutes later, she saw Scott pull out his wallet and give the man cash for a handgun, then leave the store. She waited in shock until the screen went black, then turned to Kurt again.

"Yes, that vas exactly vhat you think it vas," said Kurt before she could ask the question.

"How did you…"

"I'm not saying and that's final," interrupted Kurt.

Jean stared at him for a moment, then decided it wasn't worth pushing the matter. "So I guess this is just more evidence against Scott," she said finally, her face dejected.

Kurt frowned slightly and stood up from the bed. "Or its been doctored. Or maybe someone set him up. Maybe someone asked him to buy the gun for them then framed him. Or maybe he…"

"Kurt," said Jean sympathetically with a raised hand, "do you even believe what you're saying?"

Kurt paused as he looked at Jean's face. She was looking deep into his eyes. He never liked it when a telepath gave him that look. He averted his eyes back to the TV screen.

"I believe Scott's innocent and that's all I have to believe," said Kurt defiantly.

"But you have to admit that the evidence against him is pretty staggering," said Jean.

"And you," retorted Kurt, "have to admit that it isn't like him to kill someone just because they didn't get along!"

There was a long pause as both teens sat motionless and stared at the blank TV screen.

"Kurt, I need to tell you something. I think you need to hear this," said Jean finally.

He looked over at her face again. She looked scared and her voice was filled with defeat. He suddenly realized that she knew more than she had been telling everyone. He nodded silently and prepared to listen to whatever Jean had to say.

"Duncan knew I was a mutant," began Jean.

"I know. I saw it on his…" Kurt trailed off.

Jean watched Kurt quizzically now. "On his what? How could you possibly know about that?"

"Vell," said Kurt slowly, "let's just say I've been vorking on a special project. The point is I know that he knew you're a mutant. I just can't figure out how he knew. Did you tell him?"

"No, he figured it out on his own," said Jean. "But I didn't deny it. I think I wanted him to know, deep down I mean. I guess I thought I could be honest with him. After all, he was my boyfriend, right? So when he asked me, I told him, 'yeah, I'm a mutant.' I had no idea he'd get so violent when he found out. He tried to hurt me, but I stopped him. Then he threatened me. He said he'd do things to me. He said he'd blackmail me and hurt me. I was scared! Now, here's the important part."

Jean repositioned her legs on the bed so they were crossed under her. She hadn't told anyone but Professor Xavier about this.

"This all happened the day before Duncan died. The next morning, the morning before it happened, I told Scott what was going on. He was mad, to say the least. Not at me, but at Duncan. But he tried to comfort me and we tried to forget about it. Then that afternoon was the fight. Scott was protecting me that day. Duncan was about to hit me so Scott hit him first and that's how the fight got started."

Kurt sat perfectly still and silent on the bed as Jean's story unfolded. Slowly, he began to see a motive that he had never considered before.

"After Duncan got back from Darkholme's office," continued Jean, "he found me and threatened me again. He grabbed my wrist and twisted my arm over my shoulder and around my back. He held me there with my back against his chest so that I couldn't move. Then he threatened to hurt me and my friends if I didn't do what he wanted! I never told this to Scott, but he even threatened to…"

Tears began sliding down the girl's cheeks as she trailed off. She blinked her eyes a couple times to bat them away. Kurt started to ask what else Duncan had threatened, but realized what she meant before he actually spoke the words. He could feel rage building inside himself as he imagined Duncan threatening to rape his friend.

"That afternoon," said Jean, "I went to talk to Scott. He saw the bruise on my arm and found out what had happened. Then he got real quiet and just whispered something about how he could kill Duncan. I didn't think anything about it so I left him alone. I thought he was just mad so I decided to let him cool down before we continued the conversation. I didn't get a chance to talk to him again until the Brotherhood attacked."

Kurt reached out with one hand to comfort Jean. The only noises they could hear were Jean's sobs and the downstairs phone ringing, probably another reporter wanting an interview. They sat still for a few minutes as Jean tried to compose herself and Kurt analyzed her story. He still believed that Scott didn't kill Duncan, but he also knew that Scott had feelings for Jean. Strong ones. He had never heard Scott actually say it, but it was obvious to Kurt how he felt about Jean. If Duncan was threatening to hurt her, maybe Scott _would_ kill him! Maybe he did it protect Jean! For the first time, Kurt found himself faced with a possible motive that made complete sense to him and he didn't like it.

Jean sobbed one last time and looked up at Kurt's face. The tears had stopped now, but her face was still red from the crying.

"I'm sorry, Kurt. I didn't mean to break down like that."

Kurt shook his head. "Don't be sorry. Vhat's a friend good for if not a shoulder to cry on?" A kind smile crossed his lips.

Jean smiled back at him. It was the first time she had seen him flash that smile in weeks. "You're a good friend, Kurt. And loyal too. Scott's lucky to be so close to you. I only hope you're right about all this."

Kurt opened his mouth to press her for her thoughts. After Jean's story, he wondered what she thought about it all. Did she think he could have done it? Looking back, could Scott have been serious when he said he'd kill Duncan? There were so many questions Kurt had to ask. But before he had a chance, Kitty ran into the room without bothering to even try opening the door.

"You guys better come downstairs!" she cried quickly. She was slightly out of breath from running through the mansion.

"Vhat's vrong?" asked Kurt, slightly annoyed that she would barge in on such a serious conversation.

Kitty pointed down the hallway as she spoke. "The police just called. Scott's escaped!"


	10. Scott Summers: Fugitive!

**A/N:** Good to see you all liked the last chapter. Yes, I know it was an evil, evil cliffhanger. I promise not to do that again. Heh heh. It was fun though. Anyway, I hope this chapter was worth the wait. I personally think it was. Also, I forgot to mention last time that no, I have not had any first-hand experience with prisons such as Blackwall, or any other prison for that matter. I am a good law abiding citizen. The history and details of Blackwall Detention Center came only from books I've read, movies I've seen, and my own personal imagination. But its good to know I was convincing, Lyranfan. Lol. Anyway, enjoy the new chapter!

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Scott turned the wheel sharply and the stolen car skidded to a stop just outside the secret entrance to the X-Men's underground bunker. He parked the car and turned it off, then stepped out and stretched his arms and legs. The escape had been easy enough. Ever since the fight with Ridge, which had left his attacker in a body cast at the hospital, Scott had appeared to be taking things badly. He had refused to eat at meals and had complained of gnawing pains to the guards. It had all been an act, of course, and it had all led up to his grand finale tonight. Scott had gone to dinner and refused to eat, just as he had for the last three days. About halfway through the meal he slumped to the ground and "passed out." An ambulance came and picked him up to transport him to the hospital. Just as Scott had hoped, the guards at the prison didn't bother to put handcuffs on him since he appeared to be unconscious. Likewise, only one guard accompanied him in the ambulance.  When the ambulance got to the middle of town, Scott jumped up and attacked the paramedics and guard. He gave each of them a blow to the back of their necks, using careful precision to hit a nerve there that knocked them out for ten to twenty minutes. It was a handy little attack called a nerve strike that Rogue had taught him once after a hectic Danger Room session. He knocked out the driver last and brought the emergency vehicle to a stop on his own. Then he jumped out the back and stole the first car he saw, making sure to get the owner's name so the Professor could return it quietly later. It had gone perfectly and exactly as planned. Now he just had one more thing to deal with. He had to face his friends at the mansion.

Scott sighed, unlocked the secret door in front of him with a fingerprint scan, and entered the bunker. He walked down a long hallway until he came to another large metal door. He opened it and entered a homey underground room with couches and a small dining table. This was the X-Men's underground living area, should things one day get so bad that they couldn't live upstairs. Scott kept walking to a locker room where he opened the small compartment allotted to him and found a simple black knapsack. He opened it and found two pairs of clothes, his visor, and a plain white envelope, just as he had requested. He put the knapsack over his back and made his way towards the underground kitchen where he picked up a pair of kitchen shears. Finally, he turned and walked to the nearest bathroom. There he changed out of the prison uniform and put on normal clothes for the first time in nearly a month. He used the shears and the mirror to cut the strap holding the glasses to his head and replaced them with the visor as he slipped the shades into his pocket. He looked at himself once more in the mirror and sighed. Maybe he didn't have to do this. Maybe he could just…

He cut himself off and resolved not to second-guess himself anymore. This was the only way to ensure the safety of himself and the X-Men. It had to be done.

He stepped out of the bathroom and returned to the subterranean den again. He stood still for a moment in the middle of the room and simply looked around. He was going to miss the mansion. There were a lot of memories here, some better than others. He had made friends here. His conscience told him that he should at least be saying good-bye to them. He owed them that much. But he knew he couldn't do it. If he had to face them he knew it would be ten times harder to leave. Still, it would be nice to see Jean just one more time. His head dropped to his chest in a heavy sigh. It hurt, but it had to be this way.

"Scott?"

At first he thought he had just imagined it. There had been so many times that he'd thought he'd heard her voice while inside Blackwall. It took nearly a minute for him to realize that the voice he had heard was not just in his head. He turned around slowly and there they were. Jean, Kurt, Kitty, Rogue, Evan, Logan, Ororo, and the Professor were all looking at him from across the room.

 "Hey," he said finally, adjusting the knapsack on his back.

The X-Men slowly filed into the room and formed a semi-circle in front of Scott. If they were happy to see him, they didn't show it.

"Jus' what do ya think yer doing, kid?" asked Logan gruffly.

Scott braced himself for the coming reprimand. He had made up his mind and no one could make him change it. He took a deep breath for courage.

"I'm leaving."

There was a moment of quiet confusion on the faces of the X-Men. Scott's gaze traveled across all of their faces. He did his best not to linger on Jean's, but it was a wasted effort.

"So," said Scott after a long moment, "looks like the gang's all here. What is this? Some kind of intervention?"

"Well," said Rogue, "ya did jest escape from prison without botherin' to tell us that ya were plannin' on doin' it."

"I told the Professor," said Scott, pointing towards the wheelchair-ridden man.

Now everyone's attention fell on Xavier. Scott welcomed the break from the accusing stares.

"You never told me what you were planning," said Xavier defensively.

"Not in so many words, but it shouldn't have been hard to figure out," said Scott.

Xavier bit his lower lip gently. "I suppose I just didn't think you'd actually go through with this. Scott, I beg you to reconsider. Its not too late."

"Actually," said Scott, "it is. I doubt I could go back now." He gestured towards the knapsack with his head. "Thanks for the help though. I have to admit I wondered if you'd really do it. I assume the tickets are in the envelope?"

Xavier nodded his head slightly, his voice defeated. "Yes, they are."

Scott stepped toward the man with his hand outstretched. "Thank you,  Professor. For everything."

Xavier closed his eyes as if in deep thought, then looked up at Scott with deep sorrow in his face. "You don't have to do this, Scott. There are other ways."

Scott winced slightly at the words and let his hand fall back to his side. Its not like he wanted to do this! But he had given it a lot of thought and there was simply no other way!

Kurt spoke up now, utterly confused by the exchange he had just witnessed. "He doesn't have to do what? Scott, vhat's going on? Vhat tickets are you talking about?"

"I already told you," said Scott. "I'm leaving. The tickets are one-way plane tickets to Chicago and then Atlanta. From there I'll buy some tickets on my own."

Kurt was taken aback now. His eyes remained fixated on Scott. "Vhat?!"

Scott sighed. "There's no life for me in Bayville anymore. I can't stay here, but I can't live in that hell of a prison anymore either. This is the only other option."

"So you're running away?" said Jean, the distress apparent in her voice.

Scott frowned and averted his eyes from Jean's face. The last thing he wanted to do right now was talk to her. Everything would be so much easier if she just didn't speak.

"I'm starting a new life with a new name in a new city. Existing as Scott Summers is too risky now."

There was a general gasp around the room from all the X-men, followed by a long pause where they all stared at Scott's unmoving figure.

"So…so then how do you prove your innocence?" asked Kurt

"I don't," said Scott, his face cold and dark.

For a moment, nothing moved. No one spoke. There was pure silence in the bunker. Finally Jean began walking towards Scott angrily. "Are you crazy?! You're just gonna roll over and run away because things got bad?! You can't do this!"

"Yeah!" chimed in Kitty.

Scott's eyebrows dipped down towards his visor and his frown tightened, his jaw set in stone. He turned and began to walk to the doorway that would lead him to the garage.

"I'm leaving now. Don't try to follow me, it won't do any good. I've made my decision and you can't change my mind. This conversation is over."

As he walked away, Rogue ran forward and grabbed his arm, spinning him halfway around so that his side faced the group.

"No it's not! This conversation hasn't even started yet!"

Scott glared down at the southern girl over his shoulder.

"Let go."

"No! Not until you tell me you didn't do it first!"

Scott whipped his arm out of Rogue's grasp angrily. Rogue's eyes widened as she realized what she had just demanded.

"So, is _that_ what this is all about?!" he yelled at the group.

"No!" Kurt said back adamantly.

"Yes," admitted Jean meekly.

"Maybe," said Rogue, her hand dropping from his arm.

Scott stood like a statue and stared at the X-men with a cold look on his face. Suddenly he turned to Xavier sharply.

"No! Stay out of my mind, Professor!" He turned to Jean briefly. "Same goes for you. Both of you stay out!"

"Alright. I'm sorry, Scott," said Xavier defensively. "I won't try again and neither will Jean."

"Look, Scott, none of us want to believe you did this," said Jean, now hoping she could talk the information out of him.

"I _don't_ believe you did!" interrupted Kurt with an annoyed glance at the other X-Men.

"I don't either, really," continued Jean. "But you have to consider the evidence. Look at it from an outsider's point of view for just a minute."

Scott remained standing perfectly still while Jean took a deep breath.

"You have to admit," she said, "that if someone is framing you, they're doing an incredible job of it!"

Scott turned around again. "I don't wanna listen to this."

Kurt teleported between Scott and the door quickly, stopping him in his tracks.

"Move," demanded Scott.

"No," said Kurt as he returned Scott's glare. "You're gonna listen to the facts that we've found and you're gonna explain everything that's happened."

The two boys spent a moment trying to stare the other down. Finally, Scott sighed slightly and nodded his head as he turned around. He looked up at Jean for a second, then averted his eyes.

"First off," said Jean, "here's what we know. Duncan knew about my powers."

Most of the X-Men gasped. In the excitement of the moment, Jean had forgotten that Rogue, Kitty, Evan, Ororo, and Logan all had no idea about her fight with Duncan. She had only told the story to Scott, Kurt, and the Professor. She turned now to face the five shocked X-Men.

"I'll explain it fully later. For now you just need to know that Duncan found out and threatened to hurt and blackmail me." She turned back to Scott. "I told you about all of that the morning before the murder. After lunch that day, you got into a fight with Duncan to protect me from him. You were sent home while he got to stay at school for the rest of the day. That afternoon, Duncan grabbed me in the hall and threatened me again, this time even saying that he would hurt me and all of my friends if I didn't do what he wanted. _You_ found out about that," she said pointing at Scott, "and got mad. Then you said, and I quote, 'I could kill him.'"

Scott didn't respond. He simply crossed his arms and listened while his gaze studied the floor.

"You were worried about my safety, as well as the safety of the other X-Men, and I appreciate it, but it also qualifies as a motive. For the rest of that afternoon, you acted really strange. You locked yourself in your room and refused to talk to anybody. That night, we found out through the mansion's security system that the Brotherhood was attacking the school," she turned to look at the Professor, "which is something I still don't understand by the way."

Xavier's head lowered. He had hoped never to have to tell the students about this. "You all know that I trust you completely," he began. "I know you would never use your powers out in the open, but I linked the school's security system to our own a few months ago in order to keep an eye on the Brotherhood. They use their powers in the middle of the school far too often. If anyone ever saw them, I wanted to be able to protect their secret. If anyone learned about their powers, it surely wouldn't be long until all of you were forced into the open as well."

"We know you trust us, Professor," said Kitty reassuringly.

"Thank you," said Xavier with a smile.

"It's alright Professor. I was just confused by that one thing," said Jean before turning back to face Scott again. "So the X-Men went to stop the Brotherhood. I told you what was going on, but you refused to go because you said you didn't care what they did to the school. We left without you and were gone about an hour and a half. So there's a big window of opportunity for you."

Scott still didn't say a word.

"The only question left is where you got the gun."

Jean glanced over at Kurt, who soon nodded and teleported away.

"Kurt has a video that answers that question."

Kurt reappeared and put a black VHS tape into the VCR in the corner of the room. He hit play and everyone watched in shock as Scott appeared on the TV screen and began talking to the man at the counter. While the video played, Jean continued talking.

"This tape shows you buying a handgun, the murder weapon to be specific. That is you, isn't it?"

Scott's head dropped a little. "Yes."

Kurt's eyes opened in shock. "Why would you buy a gun?"

Scott didn't reply, but simply watched the cash exchange between himself and the man on the tape.

"So," said Logan when the tape had ended, "we've got yer biggest enemy killed with yer gun in yer house while everyone else was gone. Plus, they've got phone records that show a call placed from the mansion to Duncan's house 40 minutes before the 911 call came in."

"Do you understand our concern, Scott?" asked Jean.

Scott looked up for a moment and took a deep breath. He resituated the knapsack on his shoulders and looked out at the X-Men, who stood before him accusingly.

"It's clear that all of you have already made up your minds. I don't see any reason for me to stand here any longer to answer those questions."

He turned his back to them and began moving towards the door again. As he walked, he turned his head over his shoulder to say one final thing.

"Don't bother looking for me. You won't be able to find me."

Then he turned his head back to his front and reached for the door handle. As his hand grabbed the metal handle, Kurt's voice called out to him from the group.

"STOP RIGHT THERE, YOU HYPOCRITE!" he yelled with his finger pointing towards Scott's back.

Scott stopped, but didn't turn around.

Kurt began taking a few steps toward him. "You think the rules don't apply to you?! Well you're wrong! We're a team and we can work through this as a team! Damn it, Scott! You're the leader of this team! What gives you the right to think you can just walk out on us without even saying goodbye?! I don't believe for one second that you did this thing, Scott. I can't! And so here I am going to bat for you, in the face of all this evidence, with the entire world stacked against Scott Summers and you're just going to walk away from it?! How can you do that?!"

The dark figure in the doorway slowly turned to face Kurt, his mouth curled into a tight, cold frown.

"I can do it because there is no Scott Summers anymore."

"Vhat are saying?" asked Kurt, his words timed evenly.

"Scott Summers lived a life where nothing ever worked out right. Just when his childhood was going great, a tragedy killed his parents and his brother leaving him completely alone in the world. He went from orphanage to orphanage, foster home to foster home, until finally one day in a hospital in Juneau, Alaska he met Charles Xavier, who offered him a new life. He had nothing to lose, so he took it. Suddenly, he had a new name, Cyclops. He could put on a mask with a red visor and blue uniform and he wasn't Scott Summers anymore. He became a new person entirely. One that fought to help other people, to save lives, and to accomplish things that would make the world better for all the mutants who would be born after him. As Cyclops, he was strong and fast. Slowly, Cyclops took over his personality until Scott Summers became the mask. Cyclops was a hero, a man who could help people. Scott Summers was nothing more than a high school loser. Now, Scott Summers has become a liability, so it's time for me to take the mask off."

Silence gripped the room as the X-Men watched the man before them. He stood tall, his chest out as if a weight had been removed from him. He was proud and seemed completely in control of the situation.

"You…you can't mean that," said Kurt in a near whisper.

"I do," he said as he turned back to the door again.

"No," said Kurt, shaking his head. "No, you're wrong! When I first got here three months ago it was Scott Summers who first accepted me. It was Scott Summers who agreed not to make fun of my looks. It was Scott Summers who joked and laughed with me when I needed laughter most in my life. It was _you_ who became my best friend! Well now you need a friend and I'm here for you when everyone else is ready to write you off! You helped me, Scott. Now its time to let me help you!"

"I'll be fine on my own," said Scott calmly.

Kurt was now huffing in anger as he spoke. "What makes you so arrogant?! Are you too good to accept someone else's help?! You're a hypocrite, Scott! An arrogant, cocky, foolish hypocrite and if you leave here you'll regret it for the rest of your life!"

Scott turned around and stepped up to Kurt so that they were inches apart. "Was that a threat?"

Ororo spoke up now, hoping to be the voice of reason before things got any more out of control. "Scott, what Kurt's trying to say is that we're here to help you. We want to help you. But you have to let us do it."

Scott looked out at the X-Men and panned across the group slowly. He pulled the knapsack higher up on his shoulders and took yet another deep breath.

"There's a car outside the back bunker entrance with a note on the driver's seat about who it needs to be returned to. It'd be best if you did that as soon as possible. Logan, I'm taking your bike. You can pick it up tomorrow at LaGuardia Airport's parking deck G."

"Now hold on, bub! Ya can't…"

Scott turned away from the protesting Logan and stepped into a long dark corridor, closing the door behind him. The corridor would lead him to the garage and away from the mansion for good.

The X-Men all stared at the closed door for a long time before anyone said anything. The sound of Scott's words still echoed through their minds.

"Shouldn't we, like, be going after him or something?" asked Kitty finally.

"Why?" asked Evan. "I think its pretty obvious he's not gonna listen to us."

"But he's still our friend," insisted Kitty.

"Yeah? Try telling him that."

A tear fell from Jean's cheek. She wiped her eyes and turned to leave the room through the hallway behind her. Logan, Storm, and Xavier followed her upstairs. Eventually, Kitty, Rogue, Evan, and Kurt turned to go upstairs as well.

"Man!" said Evan to Kurt as they walked, "I really thought he was gonna deck you there for a second when you said all that!"

Kurt frowned, the pain obvious on his face. "Who says he didn't?" With a sudden puff of smoke, Kurt disappeared.

"What'd that mean?" asked Evan with a confused look at Rogue and Kitty.

"Are you really that clueless?" asked Kitty in frustration.

Evan's face looked completely confused. Finally, Rogue explained it to him.

"Scott never really answered the question. He never said he's innocent."


	11. A New Life

**A/N:** Okay, so I think you're all still a little unsure about the last chapter. I hope you liked it even though it wasn't exactly what you were expecting. For those who reviewed, thank you very much. Starting with this chapter we're going to be spending a lot more time with Scott. In fact, the X-Men won't be appearing at all for a few chapters.

Another thing I should mention is that I need to apologize to all of you. I'm lazy and a horrible procrastinator. As a result, I haven't written _anything_ after this chapter. I'm going to do my best to keep giving you a new chapter each week, but there will probably be times that I don't make it. I'm sorry in advance for those weeks that you have to wait.

As you'll see soon enough, this chapter includes a pretty big time jump. I just want to mention right now that the X-Men's lives have been exactly as you saw them on the show since Scott's departure. The only difference was that Scott wasn't around. This of course affected a few characters enough to change them a little from their TV counterpart, but all the events of the show happened in this fic. Did that make sense? Let me know if not and I'll try to clarify.

Finally, I just wanted to say that for those of you who are familiar with Memphis, Tennesee, I hope you enjoy this chapter and the subsequent ones as well. I live close to Memphis so I feel like I have a pretty good sense of the city. If you don't know anything about Memphis, don't worry. It's not that important.

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The world can change a lot in eight years. That's especially true if the beginning of that eight-year period was marked by a court case that revealed the existence of mutants to the world. After Scott Summers escaped police custody, he was rumored to have fled the country. This was never proven, but the police never found any evidence to prove otherwise either. Of course, the consequences of the Summers case stuck around a little longer than the defendant. Not long after the escape, Congress declared mutants a menace to society. The act they passed was designed to protect normal humans from the dangers posed by mutants. For about 4 months, mutants were simply seen as unfit for society. It wasn't illegal to be a mutant, but many were assaulted, murdered, or wrongfully arrested during that time period. Then there was the Sentinel incident in New York. A huge robot was caught on camera in a fight with a group of mutants, later revealed as a group called the X-Men. There was a fear that "mutant resistance" groups might be forming around the country, but the X-Men eventually proved they were peaceful by defeating another mutant named Juggernaught in a battle on top of a dam that protected a small city. After that, the X-Men and most other mutants were allowed to live their normal lives again.

Of course, there were some places around the world that still remained hostile towards mutantkind. These became known as "danger zones" by mutants. But there were plenty of "safe havens" too, regions that had laws requiring mutant equality. But the danger zones and safe havens were vastly outnumbered by "neutral areas," cities and regions where mutants were generally accepted by about half the population and despised by the other half. Memphis, Tennessee was a well-known neutral area. That's what made it the perfect spot.

Commercial jets fly in and out of Memphis International Airport everyday. Thousands of people enter and leave the large southern city constantly, so it's rarely a big deal when a jet lands there. For this reason, Flight 830 from San Diego arrived with no ceremony except the happy reunions of families who had been separated while Mommy or Daddy was gone on a business trip. The passengers simply shuffled out of the plane and into the airport terminal with their carry-on bags and children in their arms. There was no band there to welcome them; nor was the mayor on hand to give a speech. Simply put, no one knew who had just landed.

Doing his best to blend in with the crowd was a tall man wearing a black leather coat and carrying a small carry-on bag with locks on the zippers. The long brown bangs he had worn over his forehead in his youth had been long since cut off and his face was much more mature than it had been eight years before, though the red sunglasses still remained a permanent fixture. Scott Fletcher, as he now called himself, walked quickly through the terminal and towards the baggage claim. As he did so, he kept watching the people surrounding him in the terminal. He couldn't help but wonder how many were residents of the city. He smiled to himself. If they only knew why he was here.

Scott watched the room numbers as he walked down the hallway, his new key in hand. Finally he reached apartment 1413 and unlocked the door. Inside was his new home. It was simple enough. There was one bedroom, one bathroom, a living room, and a small kitchen area. It was also cheap and completely furnished, both very important. The windows in the living room and bedroom faced north, looking out on downtown Memphis. From there he could see the Mississippi River flowing underneath the famous Memphis Bridge, shaped like a huge round M. The Pyramid, a basketball arena in the shape of its namesake, stood guard on the banks of the river and Mud Island rested just off the shoreline. Across the river was the eastern edge of Arkansas. Below him were the streets of Memphis. Beale Street and all its clubs, pubs, and bars were just to his right, but a tall bank building blocked his view of the famous street. Across the street from Scott's apartment stood a small office building, only 12 stories tall. The street below him was narrow with only two lanes. He wondered if he could jump out his window and land on the roof of the building across from him. He smiled a little. It'd certainly be worth a try.

Scott moved into his bedroom and began unpacking his bag into his new closet. It didn't take long to unpack all his belongings. He'd spent enough time living out of a suitcase that he had learned long before how to live light. He had left most of us personal belongings in Seattle, his last place of residence. In fact, he had only brought two bags. The first was a large black duffel bag filled with his clothes and general belongings. The second was the carry-on with the locks. It wasn't long until the duffel bag was completely unpacked, leaving only the small locked one still full. He put it on the top shelf of his closet without opening it. That time would come later. For now, he settled into his new couch and looked around the small apartment.

Finally it was time to start the life he had been planning for so long. This would be the fourth stage of his life. He had lived out the first stage as a happy child living with his parents and brother. The second stage had included his time as a struggling orphan as well as his year and a half at the Xavier Institute, which now seemed like an eternity before. The third stage had seen him traveling around the world studying, learning, and preparing for what was to come. He had spent the last eight years living under various names in dozens of locations. He had honed his mind and his body and he was finally ready to take on his new mission. Scott was bigger now than he had been during his time with the X-Men. His muscles were larger and more toned. He had grown a few inches more and now stood at about 6'5". He had the perfect body now and he knew he would need it in order to pull off this fourth and final stage of his life.

He turned on the TV just in time to catch the 6:00 local news. But just as the anchors appeared on screen he heard a knock on the door.

"Great, the neighbors are nosy! That's just what I needed," he mumbled to himself as he stood up.

Scott walked across the room and opened the door to find a middle-aged black man looking into his face. He stood about 6'1" and his hair was just beginning to go gray on the sides. He extended his hand towards Scott.

"Hi there," said the man cheerfully. "Name's Nate Reynolds. I live next door."

Scott shook his hand with a nod. "Hi. Scott Fletcher."

"Nice to meet ya, Scott. I was just on my way home from work when I noticed you'd moved in. Mind if I come in for a little bit?"

"Sure," said Scott, stepping a little to the side to allow the man in the room.

"Thanks. My heater's not working real well right now and I'm just not ready to go in there and freeze quite yet, y'know what I mean?"

Scott faked a friendly smile. "Yeah. The heater's pretty important in February."

"Heh, that it is," said Nate as he sat in a chair by Scott's table.

"So," said Scott, searching for something to say. The truth was Scott would like nothing more at the time than for Nate Reynolds to get out of his apartment. But, he decided life would be much easier if he was friendly to the people around him. He simply couldn't afford to make people curious about who he was and what he did. "Where do you work?" he asked finally as he sat down across from Nate at the table

"I'm a doctor," said Nate with a proud look on his face.

"A doctor?" said Scott suspiciously. "What's a doctor doing living in a cheap apartment building like this?"

Nate's smile dampened a little as he leaned forward. "I said I was a doctor. I didn't say I was rich." He smiled a broad smile at Scott. "I run a small clinic downtown that treats people who can't afford to go to the hospital."

"Oh," said Scott. "Sounds like a good service."

"Yeah, assuming you don't mind treating patients who can't afford to pay."

"But without you they wouldn't get treated at all," said Scott.

Nate smiled. "Exactly what I tell myself all the time. 'Course, it isn't the work I dreamed of doing in medical school. I was the first member of my family to graduate from college. I thought I was gonna be the best physician the country had ever seen."

"So what happened?" asked Scott.

"Couldn't find a job. No one would hire me." The smile still wasn't disappearing from his face.

"Because you're black?"

"No. No, it was because I'm a mutant."

Scott looked at the kind man with a bit of shock on his face. He had never met any mutant that would willingly reveal that secret to a perfect stranger.

"I'm sorry," said Nate after a moment of silence. "Did I just make you uncomfortable?"

"No," said Scott. "Actually I'm a mutant myself. I just…do you always tell everyone you meet about it?"

"No," said Nate with that ever-present smile. "I've learned to read people and decide if they'd be open to me or not. You can tell mutant haters by their actions and those are the people you don't say anything to. You, on the other hand, let me come in your home within two hours of moving in and were willing to talk to me like an old friend, despite feeling that I was nosy, chipper, and annoying."

"Oh," said Scott, still a little amazed at the man. "So I assume you're a telepath?"

Nate laughed. "No. No, I'm just a guy who's good at reading emotions. I do it all the time. You never know when someone's gonna figure out your secret so I try to always stay a step ahead of the other guy by reading body language so I can know what he's thinking. It's a handy little skill to have."

Scott smiled a little. "I guess that's true. So do you find yourself meeting more people who hate us or love us around here?"

Nate raised his hand as if to brush the thought away. "Most people in this city don't have a problem with mutants. Just be careful. There aren't many misguided bigots out there, but there's enough."

"I'm sure. So how did being a mutant affect your ability to get a job?" Scott was now genuinely enthralled by Nate. He seemed kind and warm, both of which were traits Scott hadn't seen in a long time.

"Finding a job as a doctor isn't exactly easy when you're like the two of us," said Nate. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-five."

"So then I was a little older than you when I graduated, twenty-seven actually. Anyway, about the time I started looking for a job was the same time that the world learned about mutants. That Scott Summers kid up in New York killed a boy and suddenly every hospital was asking if you were a mutant on the application! If you said yes, you didn't get the job."

"So why not say no?"

"I finally did when I realized that was the only way to get hired. I got that job too. But I was only there about three months before I used my powers on a patient and got caught. Keep in mind this was still before the Sentinel attack up north."

"You used your powers on a patient?" asked Scott in amazement.

Nate chuckled. "You make it sound like my power is instant death or something! No, you see I have a healing power. I can touch someone and heal physical wounds. There are limits though. For example, I can't set a broken bone that's out of place, but I can help it if the break isn't too bad. Of course, the body's not supposed to heal up as fast as I make it heal. So the day after I use my powers on someone they usually find themselves taking all the painkillers they can get their hands on. But it's better than the alternative. Anyway, I had a patient who was looking real bad. Car wreck. He was gonna die if I didn't do something so I healed him up with my powers real quick. A nurse saw it and reported me. I was fired within two days and I founded the clinic three weeks later."

"That's interesting," said Scott. "I used to know a guy whose power was that he could heal himself. It was pretty incredible. I saw him get shot in the stomach once and within 45 seconds he was back to new!"

"Did he have any pains later on?" asked Nate curiously.

"No. He was fine."

"Wow. I wish I had that power instead!" said Nate with a warm laugh. "My power doesn't work so well on myself, only on others. So what are your powers? You did say you're a mutant, right?"

Scott thought for a moment on whether to lie or tell the truth. Nate might recognize his power as that of Scott Summers. Or worse, he might remember later on and figure out Scott's secret. But ultimately, Nate seemed like a good guy who simply didn't deserve to be lied to.

"My eyes fire out a destructive blast. Hence the sunglasses."

"Ah, I was wondering about the shades. So you can't control it yourself?"

"Nope. I wish I could, but it just doesn't work that way."

"Well, maybe one day you'll learn how."

"With any luck."

The two fell into an awkward silence that was filled only with the sounds of the news on TV.

"Another murder claimed the life of Nelson Wright today in downtown Memphis," said the anchorwoman. "Mr. Wright, an assistant to District Attorney Robert Wicks, was killed while walking up the steps of the Shelby County Courthouse. Police Commissioner Ron Driscoll refused to comment when asked if the murder was connected to the spree of killings that have gripped the downtown area for the last six months. But he did say that the style fits that of the Sonance Slayings."

"So what's with this about a string of killings? Anything I should worry about?" asked Scott.

Nate turned to the TV as he answered. "It's crazy stuff. There's this guy in town who goes by Sonance. He's a crime boss, runs this whole mob organization. They say he's a mutant, but the police can't catch him. Don't even know who he is! They've been looking for him since he started killing folks last year. You shouldn't have anything to worry about though. He only kills guys who work with the city government."

"Actually, I'm working for the city government," said Scott.

Nate turned back to him with a sheepish look on his face. "Oh! Well then I'm sorry to scare you like that! What's your position?"

"I'm just a lowly office employee working at the courthouse. Basically I work as a courier. I'm in charge of getting case files from the police to the lawyers to the judges and back to the lawyers and the police."

Scott had taken the job more out of the need for a daily appearance than for anything else. Plus it might be a way to hear things that would prove helpful. He didn't really need the money though. After he left the mansion, Scott had taken one million dollars from the Institute's account. He had seen Xavier's records while making a deposit for him a couple months before the murder. To Xavier, a million bucks was like one drop in the huge bucket and Scott knew it. He had taken the money and invested it to ensure it never ran out. At this point, he had turned the stolen million into nearly four million dollars through the stock market. Simply put, Scott was set for life.

"So who from the government is getting killed?" asked Scott. "City officials?"

"No. It's normally smaller people like assistants to the higher-ups. This Sonance character has killed ten guys in six months though so it's getting pretty serious. And this is an election year so all the politicians are scared to death he's gonna get brave and start killing candidates. The mayor's especially worried. He keeps telling Commissioner Driscoll to catch this guy or he's fired!"

"Sounds scary."

"Eh. The mayor's corrupt and the whole city knows it," said Nate jokingly. "Besides, they'll catch him. These guys all get caught eventually."

"I hope so," said Scott, turning back to the TV.

He had known about the Sonance Slayings long before he came to Memphis. In fact, they had played a big part in his decision to move. Scott could feel something circling inside him. Everything in his life – the death of his family, joining the X-Men, Duncan's murder – had led him to this point. The time had come for Scott to do what he knew he was supposed to do.

He was ready.


	12. A New Hero in Town

**A/N:** Hey, good to hear no one was thrown off too badly by the time jump. Thanks to all those who reviewed. I would like to mention something about reviews though. I happen to know that there are some of you reading but not reviewing. My question is, "why not?!" C'mon, if you like this story then please review. It makes me work so much harder if I know someone will appreciate it. So what's holding you back? Reviews are your chance to actively improve this story and ensure your own enjoyment of it in the future. It'll be fun, I promise. lol. Okay, now that I've got that off my chest, enjoy the new chapter!

* * *

From his window, Scott watched the sun set over the Arkansas horizon. His second night in Memphis was just starting and he intended to make good use of it. He would begin making some test runs tonight to get a feel for how the city worked after dark. He had already mapped tonight's route. The plan was to stay downtown, basically weaving through the streets and trying to memorize the grid. He would spend about ten minutes in each park and eventually end the night around 2 am on Beale Street.

At 7:30, Scott slipped into some dark clothes and left his apartment. He strolled out of the building and began walking down the street as if he was a normal citizen, which he technically was at this point. He only had to walk a few blocks north before he reached Poplar, one of Memphis' main roads. He turned left and followed Poplar to Union Street, which followed the Mississippi River. Scott turned north again and made his way up Union.

As he went, he paid careful attention to everything around him. He was going to have to know these streets like the back of his hand in order to pull this off. There were enough alleys criss-crossing downtown to make a person dizzy. Simply put, learning the city wasn't going to be easy. Memphis wasn't really designed well for pedestrians. It was a southern city, which meant everyone was expected to drive when they needed to go somewhere. There was no decent public transportation. A trolley system lined the river and the city had established a small bus system about thirty years before, but there was no subway at all.

Scott found himself now in Jefferson Davis Park. It was a small patch of grass overlooking the river that the city had established at some point in honor of the Confederate President. Why the man deserved to be honored was anyone's guess, but the park honored him nonetheless. Scott followed the stone wall on the side of the park and stopped at one of the model cannons pointed towards the water. He turned around and sat on the wall to look back at the city. He was just off of Riverside Drive now, which was named for obvious reasons. To his left lay the Pyramid and the Memphis Bridge; to his right, the restaurants and clubs of downtown Memphis. Scott stood up, turned right, and began walking again.

It wasn't long before he passed his new workplace, the Shelby County Courthouse. It was located on Union Street and faced the inner part of Memphis. It was a large stone building and actually quite impressive to look at. Scott stopped and stood on the steps leading up to the main entrance. This was the spot where a young assistant to District Attorney Robert Wicks had been murdered just one day earlier. Scott looked up at the surrounding buildings as he stood on the very place where the man had fallen. The police said he had been killed by a sniper, probably hidden in one of the many office buildings in the area. Scott clenched his fists. Whoever was behind these attacks would pay. He would personally see to it.

Eventually, Scott left the murder scene and walked on away from the river, back into the city. He now found himself surrounded by hotels, restaurants, and AutoZone Park, a minor league baseball stadium. Horse-drawn carriages were parked on the sidewalks waiting for happy couples who wanted a romantic ride through the city. The businesses were booming and music could be heard coming from a local bar. One of the hotels in the area was the Peabody, an upscale expensive place filled with lavish decorations and bellboys in tuxedos. What the Peabody was most known for, though, was its ducks. The Peabody ducks lived in a fancy pen on the roof of the hotel. Each afternoon, a hotel employee would lead the ducks into the lobby where they played in a large fountain for a while and all the guests scrambled to take pictures. It was a dumb tradition, but it had made the hotel famous so who could complain?

After a few hours in the midst of the crowds, Scott gladly slipped away from the main roads and all their gilded entertainment. He entered a long alley and could immediately tell he had left the beaten tourist path. Gone were the horse-drawn carriages and live music, replaced by homeless men and dark corners. Scott lifted his head high as he walked through the alleys as if he owned them. This was the part of Memphis he needed to know most. This was where he would be spending his time. Somehow, Scott felt more comfortable here than in the midst of the bright lights just a few blocks over. The alley was dark, cold, and grimy, but Scott felt right at home. The homeless men around him pulled their coats over their faces as they tried to find sleep. Most of them had been lucky enough to find warm clothes when the winter came. It was a good thing too since it was currently a crisp 36 degrees Fahrenheit and the wind was picking up.

Scott felt as though these freezing men around him were kindred spirits of his. He felt a connection between they and himself that he just didn't feel with most other people. They were social outcasts, thrown away by society for not being good enough. They spent their days begging and their nights lying in the dark shivering from the cold. If they tried to go near the bright lights of the nightclubs and hotels, they would only be chased off. Each one of them had learned this lesson the hard way. Each one had literally been abused simply for being the person they were. But even that abuse was favorable to what they normally received. Ordinarily they were merely ignored. Each day as they sat in their corners and begged, the men in the fancy suits would turn their eyes the other way, refusing to so much as acknowledge them as a person! Over time, they simply resigned themselves to the fact that they were alone in the world. And each night they returned to the same place where they would lay down and try to force themselves to sleep so they could wake up the next morning and ask the same men wearing the same suits to acknowledge them. It wasn't really money they were asking for. It was acceptance. Money was always appreciated when it was given of course, but a simple smile and a nod of the head could make their day because, for that one second, they were a person and someone else recognized it. And as they would lie down and go to sleep that night, they would be a little warmer thanks to the memory of that smile.

Scott thought about all this as he walked by them. He had much more in common with them than even they could know. Like them, Scott had been forced from the bright lights of life. He lived an existence now that included no friends or family to brighten his day or warm his spirits and, like them, he had accepted this as his lot in life years ago. Also like them, he often found himself struggling for acceptance. He had managed to find it a few times and always cherished it when it came, but it was always fleeting. A friendship here; a light relationship there. It never lasted but a second, but the memories were all he had to warm his soul when things grew cold. Somehow he had managed to maneuver alone through life's dark alleys for eight years, but it had never once been easy.

Scott continued walking through the streets of Memphis with only his thoughts to keep him company. Eventually he decided to call it a night and go home. He glanced around at the men in the alley one last time as he left. His heart went out to them as he realized that there was one stark difference between he and them. He was about to go to sleep in a warm bed inside a tall apartment building.

==========

Scott made the same excursion through the streets of Memphis every night for the next three weeks. It wasn't long before he knew how to get anywhere he wanted to go in downtown Memphis. He had everything memorized so well that he felt he could identify nearly any building in the downtown district just by looking at any one of its walls. He was almost ready to start what he had come for. Scott stood in his apartment and looked out on the city through his window as he found himself doing so often. His eyes drifted through the open door to his bedroom where a small locked suitcase lay on the bed. He looked back to the city again.

It was time. Tonight would see the birth of a new hero.

Scott moved into his bedroom quickly, as if running to that which would save his life. He shut the door behind him and locked it. No one was going to come in his apartment, much less his bedroom, but Scott wasn't taking any chances. For the first time since he had packed the bag months before, Scott unlocked the suitcase and folded it open.

Inside was a flexible black fabric. As Scott lifted it into the air, it became clear that the fabric was, in fact, more of a costume. Scott undressed and put the costume on for the first time since arriving in Memphis, careful to get everything just right. It was actually quite similar to what he had worn as an X-Man. In fact, it had been loosely modeled on Cyclops' uniform when Scott designed it. But this suit _was_ different from its predecessor. For one thing, it was all black instead of bright blue. It covered his whole body except his head, hands, and feet and fit tight enough that his muscles were clearly visible through the material. Over his hands were a pair of black gloves that, once he put them on, blended in seamlessly with the rest of the costume. On his feet he wore tight boots with four buckles on the sides. Unlike the gloves, they were obviously distinct from the rest of the costume, but they were far from bulky.

Scattered around Scott's body were three gold belts. Around his waist was a gold-plated belt made of a soft metal alloy. It would flex as needed with Scott's body, but wouldn't break unless put under incredible pressure. Around his right thigh was a dark rubber belt that fit tight to his muscles. The final belt, like the one around his waist, was gold-plated and flexible. It extended from his waist-belt over his left shoulder and ran at a slant across his abdomen. This belt included an emblem about the size of a fist on the upper left side of Scott's chest. It was a crimson circle with a black dot in the center of it. Four black lines extended from the top, bottom, and sides of the dot, forming what looked a bit like a target. Beneath this emblem, connected to Scott's bodysuit, was a large patch of Kevlar armor. There were other patches of armor scattered around Scott's body to protect vital areas, but the armor was kept to a minimum in favor of maneuverability.

Covering Scott's eyes was a thin black visor with a fine red stripe in the center. It was much smaller than the one he had used so many years before, but he liked this one much better. Like his X-Men visor, it featured a device on Scott's temples that allowed him to activate the visor and allow his mutant beam to fire through. The farther he turned the small device, the more powerful the beam became. However, Scott had made one improvement on his original headgear. Located in a compartment in the belt on Scott's right leg was a small remote with one red button on it. When activated, this remote sent a radio signal to the visor that unleashed his beam at full blast. Scott had designed this as a just-in-case precaution. Finally, Scott wrapped a black bandana-type piece around his head. It was made from the same material as the bodysuit, but it fit snugly around his skull. There was a false knot in the back, but it was designed so that it didn't tie like a true bandana. From the knot, two pieces of fabric, each about a foot long, hung loose about halfway down his back.

Once he was completely suited up, Scott stepped out of his bedroom and walked to the large window in the living area. He slid it open, climbed onto the ledge outside, and shut the window behind him. Then he took a deep breath and jumped across the narrow road, landing on the roof of the building across the street in a crouching position to cushion the impact. He stood up and looked out on the city one last time.

Oculus had finally arrived.


	13. An Accidental Ally

**A/N:** Hey! Thanks to everyone for all the great reviews. Once again, I have proven that if you complain loudly enough, people will give in and review. lol. Thank you. Alright, now to answer a few questions that keep coming up.

_Will the X-Men ever show up again in this fic?_

Yes.

_Will you tell if Scott is guilty or not?_

Yes.

_Do we really need to know all that information about __Memphis__ like street names and the city's layout?_

Probably not, but some of it may come up again. I wanted to lay that foundation just in case I decided to use it later on. And even if it turns out to not be important, it was important to the last chapter. Learning the city was Scott's goal in the last chapter. It only makes sense that the story describe in detail what Scott is trying to memorize.

_What does Oculus mean?_

Oculus is a real word. I'll let you look it up on your own though. The word's definition isn't really all that important. Basically, I had to come up with a name for him to use since he couldn't really go by Cyclops anymore without the X-Men finding him easily. Also, oculus has a very greek/roman sound to it. That appealed to me since cyclops has such a greek background.

_Will you ever describe exactly how Duncan died?_

I'm not quite sure how to incorporate such a description yet, but yes. Although you already know the basics.

This is a question that hasn't come up, but I feel needs to be answered anyway. As you may have noticed in the last chapter, I'm now using some new breaks in the story. Where I used to use a line of five asterisks, you will now find a line of ten equals marks. The reason for this is simple. This website stopped recognizing my asterisks. As a result, my breaks weren't showing up on the site. So I had to change to a new system. During the change, I discovered the QuickEdit feature, which is where I found this nifty line to break my notes from my story. Hope that clears that up!

So there we go. This has been Q&A time with stAte. Enjoy the new chapter, and don't forget to review! There's still some of you who aren't doing it. You think I don't know who you are...but I do. Don't make me name names!

* * *

"Good evening, and welcome to Action New 10. I'm Diana Tribalo.

"Our top story tonight is Memphis' new mysterious masked man. For a week now, stories of a crime fighter named Oculus have been circulating throughout the city. So far, Oculus is credited with stopping three muggings and a jewelry store robbery. But despite these apparent signs of goodwill, the supposed hero has received varied reactions among the citizens of Memphis, such as this angry statement from Police Commissioner Ron Driscoll earlier this morning."

"What this man is doing is against the law and the Shelby County Police Department will not tolerate it! I promise that action is being taken right now to bring this Oculus nut to justice."

"But many citizens disagree with Driscoll's stance, claiming that Oculus is protecting them in ways that the police haven't in years. It seems only time will tell if Oculus' presence will be a blessing or a curse.

"Turning to weather now…"

Nate Reynolds turned down the volume on the TV as he turned to face Scott. The two had become friends over the last month, though one couldn't say they were really all that close. Tonight, Scott was having dinner at Nate's place. One of Nate's less fortunate patients had "paid" for his medical treatment with a family size ham, which was admittedly probably stolen. It had been too much for Nate to eat alone, so he had invited Scott over to join him. Scott had accepted reluctantly.

"So what do you think of this Oculus guy?" asked Nate between bites.

Scott looked up from his plate slightly. "Seems like a good guy to me. He's helping people, isn't he?"

"Yeah, he's helping people alright," said Nate sarcastically. "Y'know that jewelry store they just mentioned?"

"Yeah." Scott's curiosity was certainly peeked now.

"Well one of those robbers escaped somehow."

Scott's eyes darted up. He thought back and tried to revisit that night. He had been following a suspicious looking guy in a trench coat when he noticed four men in dark clothes gathered outside the window of a small downtown jewelry store. Oculus had slipped into a dark corner and watched until the guys threw a brick through the window and jumped in right behind it. Immediately, an alarm had gone off and Oculus dove through the window after them. It hadn't taken long to take the men down. He had given them enough of a beating that they would be sure to remember it the next time they passed a jeweler. But how had he missed one guy? Suddenly he remembered that one of the men had been tossed through a wooden door that led to the back room of the store. Oculus must have forgotten to grab him and tie him up with the others before he left.

"So this guy shows up at my clinic the next morning," continued Nate. "He's beat up real bad, two black eyes, a broken rib, a light crack in his pelvis, and a headache to end all headaches. I asked him what happened and he told me he fell down some concrete steps. I could tell he was lying, but I didn't push it. Sometimes you don't want to know more information than you're supposed to around guys like that. Then I saw the other three guys on the news later that afternoon and realized that they looked just like the guy I treated that morning. I'm telling you, I don't mind someone cleaning up this city's scum, but he's gonna kill someone if he isn't careful."

Scott nodded silently as if he agreed completely. He conceded inwardly that Nate might have had a point. Maybe he shouldn't be so harsh in the future.

==========

"I want Oculus in custody now!" yelled Ron Driscoll at the men in his office. He had called a meeting with the seven lieutenants in charge of the main downtown area. Every man in the room was a seasoned veteran on the Memphis force.

"That's gonna be tough, Commish. None of our boys have even seen the guy!" said Lt. Jim Flass of the 3rd district. "He's like a ghost. He catches guys, beats 'em to a pulp, ties 'em up, then calls 911 to tell us where we can pick 'em up."

"Where does he call from?" asked Driscoll.

"Wherever he left the perps at."

"So talk to the 911 operators if they're the ones talking to him. Find out what they know about him."

"Will do," said Flass.

"I'm serious guys. This guy is making us look bad. Every time he catches a criminal, it makes us look like we can't catch anyone! This has to stop. I want twice as many squads on the streets at all times. Give your boys permission to shoot Oculus on sight. I don't care if they kill him. A scandal like that is still preferable to being put to shame by some rookie in tights!"

Driscoll turned around and looked out his office window at the skyscrapers of Memphis.

"Where does this guy think he is, New York City?"

==========

Scott returned to his own apartment not long after dinner was finished. He hadn't really wanted to eat with Nate tonight, but had accepted the invitation to keep the man from getting suspicious. It wasn't that Scott didn't like Nate. He actually thought he was a great guy. But Scott wasn't used to having people be friendly to him. Everyone he had been in consistent contact with for the last eight years had been someone who spent their time constantly looking over their shoulders. They hadn't been warm, kind men like Nate. As a result, Scott simply wasn't sure how to react, or interact, with his new friend. He really didn't know if he even wanted to be friendly with Nate. For obvious reasons, Scott valued privacy. Allowing Nate into his world, even slightly, jeopardized that privacy as well as Scott's other identity.

These thoughts went through Scott's mind as he suited up for another night on the town. But as soon as his costume was on, Scott Fletcher and all his worries became distant. In these clothes, he was only Oculus.

==========

Five hours on the rooftops of Memphis and so far Oculus hadn't seen anything remotely interesting. No muggings, no robberies, no fires, no murders, nothing. The night had been positively mundane.

Desperate for something to do, Oculus made his way towards the Courthouse. He was ready to start investigating the Sonance Slayings and figured he'd start by checking out the scene of the murder that happened on the Courthouse steps. He arrived on the roof of a tall building across the street from his target location. This building was thought by police to be the one used by Sonance, or someone working for Sonance, to hide in when he shot Nelson Wright.

Wright had been the assistant to Robert Wicks, the head District Attorney in Memphis. Wicks had mentioned in an interview just days before the murder that he couldn't wait to try Sonance for all the killings that were taking place. The murder was thought to be Sonance's response. Later in the afternoon following Wright's death, a letter was delivered to Wicks. It had included a copy of the interview, printed in the Memphis Tribune. The letter simply read, "Wright was a warning. Be afraid." It was signed, "Sonance." The letter and envelope were immediately sent to the police labs where they were fingerprinted and checked for DNA. Unfortunately, it was clean in both regards.

Despite the warning, Wicks refused to step down. He had appeared in public often since then to decry Sonance's actions as those of a cowardly man with too much time and money on his hands. So far, Sonance hadn't responded.

Oculus stepped to the edge of the building he was standing on and quickly dove off. He let himself fall three stories before he pulled out a self-propelling grappling hook and fired it into the side of the courthouse. The hook clenched onto the wall and Oculus glided smoothly to the top of the steps beside the front door of the Courthouse.

Suddenly, he heard a woman's scream from down the street. Oculus took off running towards the sound immediately without hesitation. He ran for two blocks before he found the source of the scream. There was a young prostitute, probably only 15 years old, around a corner from Oculus. Her pimp was standing directly in front of her and had her wrists grasped in his hand.

"You pay me my money or else ya know what'll happen!" yelled the pimp right into the girl's face.

"I told ya, Billy, that's all I made tonight. I'm sorry. I'll try to do better tomorrow." There was fear in her voice as she cowered before the 20-something man.

"Damn it, Vicki! How many times you gonna make that promise?" The pimp pulled a long knife out of his pocket and flipped it open in front of the girl's eyes threateningly. "If ya can't make more 'n a hundred bucks a night, then ya ain't worth nothin' to me."

The girl cringed beneath the pimp's cold stare. He placed the side of the blade against her cheek. Just before he began to cut her though, a black hand shot out of the shadows and grabbed his neck. The pimp's eyes followed the arm into the shadows as his body began to lift into the air. The arm seemed to belong to the shadows themselves, though he could make out a thin line of crimson that seemed to hover in the darkness.

"Don't touch her," said Oculus menacingly.

"Who…who are you?" stammered the pimp nervously.

Oculus finally stepped out of the shadow so he could be seen more clearly.

"I'm the man who's going to single-handedly put an end to your way of life around here."

Oculus' other hand shot out and punched the pimp's face. He then slammed the man down to the sidewalk and delivered a kick to his chest. The girl screamed again at the violent display.

As the man lay on the ground with blood trickling from his nose, Oculus leaned down and opened his jacket up. He found a wad of money in the inner pocket and pulled it out.

"Here," he said, handing the money to the young girl. "Clean yourself up and stay away from scum like him. You can do better, Vicki."

The girl smiled a little at Oculus as she took the money.

"Now get out of here."

She nodded and ran down the street into the city. Oculus turned his attention back to the pimp who was groaning on the sidewalk. He could hear a siren coming towards him. They had probably heard the girl's scream. Oculus bent down to pick the pimp up so he could tie him to the closest streetlight.

As he did so, the pimp made a swift move for the knife lying on the ground. He grabbed it and stabbed it deep into the back of Oculus' left thigh with a grunt.

"Take my life, will ya?! Well take that!" he yelled triumphantly.

Oculus bit his lip in pain and reached for the wound. With his good leg, he kicked the pimp in the chin, knocking him into the air before he landed unconscious on the street about 3 feet away. Oculus groaned and pulled the knife out of his leg slowly. He looked down to survey the damage. He was cut pretty bad and losing a lot of blood. Just then, the police car turned the corner and slammed on the brakes. Two cops spilled out with their guns pointed at Oculus.

"Freeze!" yelled the driver.

Oculus turned and fired his grappling hook up at a balcony on the building across the street. As he pushed the button to reel him up to the balcony, the cops opened fire. Oculus was hit twice, once in the lower abdomen and again in his right shoulder. Before he could be shot again though, his body was hurled into the air by the grappling hook's reeling mechanism and he landed on the balcony in a matter of seconds. He then made his way from the balcony to the roof, again, by means of the grappling hook.

Once he was on the roof, Oculus leaned against a large air conditioning unit located there. There was blood spilling down his leg and arm. He slowly made his way across the rooftops of Memphis as he tried to get home. He was losing too much blood and he knew it. But he had to get home. A sense of urgency rushed on him as his energy faded.

"I will not bleed to death on these roofs!" he swore to himself as he leapt from rooftop to rooftop with help from the grapple. Finally he could see his apartment building. Oculus shot the grapple into the wall next to his window and pulled himself to the familiar ledge. He crawled back through the window to his apartment and locked it behind him. As he walked through the room, he left a trail of blood behind him. He looked at himself in the mirror on the wall. His skin was already pale. He needed help, fast.

==========

The pounding on his door woke Nate up with a start. It took a moment for him to collect himself and realize his surroundings. He looked at his alarm clock.

"4:30 am?" he grumbled to himself.

The pounding came again and he rolled out of bed. He stumbled through the dark apartment and looked through the peephole in his door. He could tell there was someone standing there, but they were wearing all black and he couldn't see who it was. He unlocked and opened the door anyway.

"Just who do you think you are?" he demanded angrily.

Oculus partly staggered and partly fell through the doorway as soon as the door opened. Nate reached out quickly and caught him in his arms, then helped him stand nearly straight.

"Nate, I need help," he said in a weak voice.

"Scott? What's going on?" Nate shut the door and helped Scott limp into the living room as he switched on a light. Once the room was illuminated, he realized that Scott was bleeding badly.

"I need you to fix me up," said Scott. "I'm in some serious trouble."

Nate quickly helped Scott to the floor. "What's with the get-up?" he asked.

Suddenly, a look of shock registered on Nate's face and Scott knew he had finally realized what was going on. Scott just nodded at him as he lay down.

"I've got two bullet wounds, here and here," he said as he pointed towards the bloody holes in his body. "They stabbed me too."

Nate squatted on his knees over Scott as he surveyed the wounds. The rush of adrenaline was slowly pulling him out of his droggy state. Finally, he stood up.

"Take the shirt off. I'll be right back." With that, Nate disappeared into his bedroom.

Scott morbidly chuckled to himself softly for a second. He was wearing a bodysuit, not a shirt, and it ran from his neck to his ankles! He grabbed the material below his neck and began ripping it down the middle to reveal his chest. Soon, Nate returned with a pair of medical tweezers, a scalpel, and a rolled up sock.

"Let's get those bullets out," he said as he dropped to his knees over Scott's body.

"Thought you could heal me with your powers?" said Scott.

"I can, but we can't leave those bullets in there. You'd die of infection."

Scott grunted a response and laid back flat on the floor. Nate put the sock into Scott's mouth and positioned the tweezers right above the wound in Scott's shoulder.

"Get ready. This is gonna hurt."

He plunged the tweezers into the hole and began moving them around, searching for the small metal slug. Scott's cries were muffled by the thick sock, but it was obvious he was in real pain. Finally, Nate pulled the tweezers out of the hole and dropped the blood-covered bullet to the ground.

"That's one," he said to himself as he began giving the same treatment to the wound in Scott's stomach.

Once again, Scott's screams of pain would have been echoing through the building if not for the sock placed firmly in his mouth. It was taking Nate longer to find the second bullet than it had the first.

Nate sighed softly as he grabbed the scalpel. "I'm sorry, Scott. It's about to get a lot worse."

Before the words had really registered in Scott's mind, the scalpel was cutting across his abdomen to make the hole larger. Nate made two cuts in opposite directions, both starting from the bullet hole. Then he plunged the tweezers in again and began circling them around inside of Scott. Just as Scott was about to pass out from the pain, Nate pulled the tweezers out and the second bullet fell to the blood-soaked carpet.

"Now," said Nate as he placed one hand on Scott's chest, "the hard part's over."

Slowly, the pain began to subside around Scott's body. He couldn't see it, but the three wounds were closing up all on their own. Within 45 seconds, all three holes were completely gone without so much as a scar left in their place. Nate helped Scott sit up once it was done.

"Get yourself into a little trouble out there?" he asked with a smile as he removed the gag from Scott's mouth.

Scott nodded and regained his breath. "You could say that."

Nate stood up and motioned for Scott to stay where he was.

"I'll be right back."

The man disappeared into his bathroom, then returned with a bottle of prescription painkillers and a glass of water in his hands. He handed them to Scott.

"Take two of these now, then another two as soon as you wake up tomorrow. Trust me, you'll need 'em."

Scott did as he was told while Nate sat down on the floor a few feet away.

"Thanks," said Scott after a moment of silence.

"No problem," said Nate. "So then, you're Oculus, huh?"

Scott smirked before taking a sip of water. "Guess I am."

"Wow. You sure know how to keep a secret!"

"My whole life's been a secret," said Scott cryptically. He wasn't looking at Nate, but was rather staring blankly at the wall.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Scott sighed and shook his head. "Sorry. I almost died tonight. I'm still a little shaken. Forget it."

"No, don't worry about it," said Nate with a raised hand. "I shouldn't have pried."

"Sorry about your carpet, too," said Scott, looking around at the blood-soaked floor.

Nate smiled. "It's just carpet. I'll put a rug over it."

The two sat in silence for a moment as thoughts ran through each of their heads at lightning speed.

"You know," said Scott finally, "you can never tell anyone about this."

Nate laughed. "Of course! Man, it'd be quite a story though!"

"I'm serious," said Scott with a stern face. "No one. Ever."

Nate's laughter died down. "I understand. I won't tell a soul." He could tell Scott was taking this very seriously and didn't appreciate his laughter. "Answer me one question though."

"Okay."

"Why do this? Why risk your life out there?"

Scott turned his head to look out the window. It was a few minutes before he opened his mouth again to answer.

"I disappointed a lot of people in my past. I owe it to them, and myself, to live this life."

"So you're trying to make up for past sins?"

"Yeah," said Scott stoically. "You could say that."


	14. Fulltime Detective

**A/N:** Hey, I'm back! Sorry about last week. I got lazy and didn't have this chapter ready to post. But now its here and ready to be read! Its also one of the longest, if not the longest, chapters yet. By the way, I apologize to anyone who noticed this chapter being put up and then taken right back down over the last couple days. I tried to post it but it didn't work quite right. So I posted a note explaining what was going on. Now I'm trying the chapter again. I don't know if this is going to work this time or not. We'll see. If you're reading this, and the chapter below doesn't look like one gigantic paragraph, then you'll know its working fine. If it does look like one paragraph, then what you're currently reading will be deleted soon because I'm not willing to post a chapter if it doesn't look just right.

I also want to apologize if this chapter ever seems rushed. I was really tired when I wrote a good portion of this and I'm sure that affected the story some. Again, sorry if it did.

Finally, I want to encourage each and every one of you to check out the Lunaverse! What is the Lunaverse? It's an online forum that I frequent. We're talking about Evo, Harry Potter, TV, movies, music, anime, manga, books, Buffy, Angel, Lost, fanfic, and more. Come join us! I think you'll all like it.

* * *

From his perch atop the Peabody Hotel, Oculus watched over the downtown district carefully. It was a warm June night and the mosquitoes that bred in the flooded rice fields across the river were just beginning to hit the city in full force. Oculus had finally learned that the only way to escape their attack was to stay as high as possible unless he had to move down to the street level to stop a criminal.

The city was much safer than it had ever been before. Word about Oculus had spread quickly around the streets and now all the would-be criminals of Memphis were terrified to step out of line at all. As a result, the city's citizens adored Oculus. His brand of brutal vigilante justice was finally cleaning up the city and they all felt safe knowing he was around. Nate had begged Scott again and again to lighten up in his attacks, but Oculus knew that any sign of lenience would only result in a decrease in his intimidation factor. He simply couldn't afford for people to think he was going soft. Besides, Oculus knew that the biggest fish in Memphis was still out there waiting to make his next move. He had to be ready when it came.

After nearly four months of searching for Sonance, Scott hadn't won any new ground. The man was a complete mystery. His operation was a secret. No one knew where to find him or even what he looked like! It was beginning to drive Scott crazy. He was starting to see that he would have to wait for Sonance to make a move and give him somewhere to start from before he could begin to learn anything about him.

Suddenly, a movement caught the corner of Oculus' eye. He darted his head to the side silently just in time to see two shadows pry open an air conditioning vent on the roof next door and jump inside.

Oculus sighed. "Idiots. Some guys never learn."

==========

"A _crowbar_?! You hit him in the head with a crowbar?! Where'd you even get it in the first place?"

Nate was berating Scott again about the beating he had given the two shadows the night before.

"The other guy dropped it. Look, he had a gun! I'm not gonna stand there and let him shoot me!" These constant arguments with Nate were starting to gnaw at Scott's patience. They seemed to come at least twice a week now! This time, Scott was lying on his couch while Nate paced across the room like it was the first time they'd had the discussion. "You cracked his skull! Do you understand that?!" 

"And he," retorted Scott, "was attempting to rob a bank! Would you prefer if I had opened the vault for him?"

"I'd prefer," shouted Nate angrily. He cleared his throat and readjusted his volume so the other tenants in the building couldn't hear him. "I'd prefer if you hadn't put him in a coma!"

Scott shrugged. "You said yourself it won't last a week."

"That doesn't make it right. You're gonna kill someone if you keep this up. It's only a matter of time."

Scott sat up on the couch and looked over his shoulder at Nate.

"I don't kill."

"Right, you don't kill for now. But accidents happen, Scott. Maybe you won't mean to kill the guy, but one of these days Oculus is gonna have blood on his hands. And just for the record, don't come to me to help you clean things up. As soon as you kill a guy, this little alliance, or whatever it is we've got, is over."

"I'm not gonna kill anyone," said Scott again adamantly.

"You don't even understand the game you're playing, do you?" said Nate rhetorically. "It won't be your choice whether you kill him or not. It'll probably be an accident when it happens."

Scott stood up and grabbed his keys off the table. "Whatever. I've gotta get to work which means you need to go home. I'll see you later."

Nate sighed and began moving for the door. "This discussion isn't over."

Scott turned out the lights and followed him out. "It never is," he mumbled.

==========

Scott's daily job was delivering important court papers to and from the Courthouse, police station, and various law offices. Today, his rounds found him in the office of District Attorney Robert Wicks to drop off some papers for a rapist he'd been trying, a man who, incidentally, had been caught by Oculus six weeks before. Scott approached Wicks' secretary with the plain manila envelope.

"Got some papers for Mr. Wicks," he said.

"Thanks Scott," said the secretary, a 50-something woman named Doris. She smiled at Scott as she took the envelope. Scott came by this office at least once a day so he and Doris were pretty friendly with each other.

As Scott left the office, he passed two lawyers in the hallway who seemed caught up in a hushed discussion. Scott listened to their whispers as he walked by.

"So your new client…"

"Works for Sonance, yeah! He told me this morning. What do I do?"

"Nothing, man! It's client confidentiality. You can't do anything."

"But he might be able to help put that nut behind bars!"

"Maybe you could get him to talk to…"

Scott moved far enough away from the two men that he couldn't hear them anymore. But the conversation had certainly piqued his interest. It might be his first lead to finding Sonance! He kept walking and happened to run into another secretary who worked in a nearby office named Angela. He knew her the same way as he knew Doris so they both smiled and politely said "hello" as they passed by each other. Angela stopped at the office door Scott had just passed and grabbed the doorknob. Just before she turned it, Scott turned around to face her again.

"Angela, I have a question for you."

The secretary looked up at him with the same polite smile as before. "Sure. What is it?"

Scott pointed at the two lawyers down the hallway. "The guy in the gray suit, what's his name?"

"That's Thomas Grimes. He's a defense attorney from one of the firms downtown. I think he just finished a meeting with Mr. Wicks. Why?"

Scott nodded. "Just curious. He looked familiar. Thanks."

Angela nodded as she opened the door. "No problem. See ya around!"

"Yeah, see ya."

==========

Scott typed "Grimes, Thomas" into the search bar of the computer in the Public Records section of the Library. Soon a list of names appeared, each one a client of Thomas Grimes. They were in chronological order according to when Grimes had taken their case. The person on the top of the list was Samantha Gills. Grimes had specifically said the client in question was a he, so Gills was clearly not who Scott was looking for. The next name was Perry Huber. Huber was accused of assault with a deadly weapon and robbery. Grimes had taken the case only a week before. Scott scribbled Huber's name followed by his current location, the Shelby County Holding Center, onto a scrap of paper and stuffed the paper into his pocket before closing down the computer and leaving.

==========

Perry Huber lay on his cot and tried to get to sleep. He'd been in the holding facility for nearly a week now and would remain there until his day in court. But it wasn't the pending trial that kept him awake tonight. He had told his lawyer just this morning that he had done some work for Sonance before. Immediately, he'd known he should have kept his mouth shut. If any of Sonance's other people found out about the conversation, he knew it'd only be a matter of hours before his death. Sonance was perfectly capable of striking a man down anywhere, even if that man was completely surrounded by concrete, metal, and guards.

"Perry Huber?"

The voice startled the man. He nearly fell out of his cot when he heard it! He rolled over and looked up at the person standing on the other side of the bars to his cell. He couldn't really see the person except for his legs, which were lit by moonlight streaming through a window somewhere. He could also see a thin stripe of crimson glowing in the darkness where the man's head should be.

"Who are you?" he asked in a terrified voice.

"Not important. I need you to answer a couple questions for me."

"D-did Sonance send you?" stammered Huber.

There was a short pause before the voice responded. "No. Do you know Sonance?"

"No! Of course not!" Huber lied. "What would make you think that?"

"Maybe it's the fact that you told your lawyer you worked for him."

Huber gulped. Whoever this guy was, he knew more than Huber was comfortable with.

"I've never met Sonance." His voice was cracking from fear.

"Have you worked for him?"

There was another pause in the conversation, this time caused by Huber. "Yeah, a couple times."

"Did you kill someone for him?"

"Yeah."

"Who?"

Huber darted his eyes down to the cement floor of his cell. The questions were coming so fast that he didn't have time to really think after each answer he gave. "I don't know. They gave me his picture and told me where I'd find him. I didn't ask questions."

"How did Sonance contact you?"

"The same way he contacts all his workers."

"How?" The voice turned to a low growl. Huber hesitated for a second before answering.

"He implants these tiny pieces of metal in your inner ear. Then, when he needs ya, he sends out a high frequency sound wave that makes the little piece vibrate just enough that you can feel it. That's your call to go to the warehouse."

"Which warehouse?"

Huber looked up at the crimson stripe that seemed to hang in midair above him. It suddenly struck him that this must be Oculus standing outside his cell!

"Who'd you say you are?" he asked.

The man's feet took a step closer to Huber's cell and he could hear the man place his hands on the bars.

"Unless you tell me everything I wanna know, I'm your worst nightmare. Now talk! Which warehouse?"

Huber smacked his dry lips lightly. He sensed that he was glad to have the bars separating himself from the man on the other side of them.

"It's on the corner of Union and Cypress Hill."

"Does Sonance meet you there?"

"I told ya, I never met Sonance. He's got two mutants named Lout and Prism that work for him. They're the only guys who ever meet Sonance face to face. He sends all his orders through them."

"How do I find them?"

"They always contacted me. I don't have a way of finding them."

A hand slipped through the bars of the cell and grabbed Huber's collar. Before he knew what was happening, the man had jerked him off his feet and pulled him up to the bars so that the side of his face was meshed against the metal grid.

"That's not good enough!" the man hissed into Huber's ear. He could feel the warm breath on his cheek.

"I'm sorry! It's the truth though! I don't…" Huber trailed off as he suddenly felt the familiar tingle inside his ear. He could almost hear the sliver of metal ringing from inside his head like a built in phone.

"Answer me, Perry, or life will get a lot harder for you in here! Rumors can spread. Life is bad enough in jail, Perry, but I can make it _so_ much worse."

"Go to the warehouse right now and you'll find 'em!" said Huber quickly. "They just sent out the call for us to go there. Everyone will be there in ten minutes."

The hand finally let go of Huber's shirt and slid down to the ground on his knees.

"Who's everyone?"

"Sonance's workers. Everyone who ever ran an errand for Sonance."

"They're all going to the warehouse right now?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Sonance must have decided on his next target."

Huber sat on the ground in silence for a moment, waiting for the man's next question. As the silence lingered on, he looked back up at the bars. The man was gone.

==========

It didn't take long for Oculus to get across town to the spot Huber had told him about. He slipped through a small window near the top of the warehouse and hid in the shadows of the rafters as dozens of thugs filtered into the huge room below. He was about 40 feet above the floor of the warehouse and well-hidden behind some support beams. He was confident no one would ever notice him.

Finally, two men, who Oculus assumed to be Lout and Prism, emerged from the far corner of the room. One was a huge brute of a man with a shaved head and a goatee. He wore a thin muscle shirt and was a little intimidating even to Scott. The other man, though, Scott could barely take his eyes off of. His body seemed to be made entirely of glass! You could literally see straight through him, but he wasn't invisible. His features were actually very well defined. He didn't blend in to his surroundings by any means. He just looked like he was made of fairly cloudy glass. Scott had never seen anyone remotely like him before. He was wearing jeans, probably a T-shirt, and a jacket despite the warm night. He also had a skullcap on his head. He was clearly uncomfortable about his appearance.

As the brute, who Scott guessed to be Lout, began speaking, the crowd of thugs grew instantly silent. Lout had a low, gravelly voice that just seemed fitting to his rough exterior. He also kept it short and to the point.

"Listen up boys! We've got two murders on the agenda and one needs to happen tonight! We'll need five of you for that one. The other should only take three guys. It needs to happen sometime in the next two days. We're paying five thousand a piece. Who's interested?"

Every hand in the room immediately rose into the air. Oculus watched as Lout and Prism walked through the crowd of eager thugs and began picking their teams one man at a time as if it was some sort of playground game of kickball. Once eight men were selected, the others were dismissed. Scott couldn't help but noticed the dejected looks on their faces as they left. Prism pulled eight manila envelopes out of his jacket now and began handing them out to the lucky eight that were selected. Oculus noticed for the first time now that one of the men looked familiar. He studied the man's face for a moment before he finally recognized him. It was the pimp that had stabbed him a few months before!

"These are your assignments," said Prism in a surprisingly smooth voice. This guy could easily make it on radio. "In the envelopes you'll find information on your target, the target's location, the best time to kill them, as well as your instructions on the task that you will personally carry out to ensure there are no mistakes. And we're serious about that last part. No mistakes. Also, I'll ask you to keep in mind that if you ever tell a soul about any of this, we _will_ kill you. I guarantee it."

The men took their assignments, then were quickly dismissed. They scattered and each left the warehouse by himself. Oculus waited and watched as Lout and Prism loaded themselves into a black car parked between the warehouse and the river. With any luck, they would lead him straight to Sonance! He tried to follow them, but they evaded him quickly. It was almost as if they had known he was there.

==========

Scott woke up to the noise of someone pounding on his door. He dragged himself out of bed slowly and moved through the apartment to the door. When he finally opened it, he found Nate on the other side.

"Hey, you seen the paper yet?"

Scott stepped to the side to let Nate in. "It was a late night and you just woke me up. What do you want?"

Nate closed the door behind himself, then tossed the newspaper onto Scott's table. "Sonance is back!"

Scott sat at the table and lifted the paper up. The headline read, "Man Murdered in Shelby County Jail." Next to the article were Perry Huber's mug shots. Scott sighed and dropped the paper back to the table.

"Well that's just great!" he mumbled to himself. "I knew I should have gone after the thugs instead of the ringleaders."

"Huh?" asked Nate. "Did you know something about this?"

"Sorta," said Scott as he stood up to pour himself some coffee. He took a sip from the mug and closed his eyes. "I talked to that Huber guy last night just a couple hours before he died. I should have known they were going after him!"

"So what do you do now?" asked Nate.

Scott thought for a moment. "Unless I figure out who the target is, there'll be another murder in the next few days. But I just don't have any information to go on! I have no idea who they're going to try to take down next. Unless…"

"Unless what?"

Scott took another drink of coffee. "There was a guy there that I knew, a pimp I took down a few months ago. I don't know who he is, but if I can find him, I'll at least have somewhere to start."

"Yeah, but how do you find him?"

"By making a new friend."

==========

Despite the wealth in his family, Robert Wicks was a self-made man. His great-grandfather, William Wicks, had made millions of dollars as a war profiteer in the early 1900's. Though young, he was already an incredibly rich man by 1915. Then World War I started and his fortune doubled. Not long after the stock market crash, William joined the Nazi party and moved his family to Germany where Hitler allowed them to enter into whatever business agreement they wanted with anyone. When World War II ended, William had tripled his fortune from where it had been a decade before. After the Nazis fell, he moved the family back to Mississippi. In the 50's, William paid off Joseph McCarthy to avoid being dragged in front of the powerful senator's committee investigating communists in America. William's sons were no better, each finding his own way to perform equally atrocious deeds. Needless to say, it was a despicable and morally bankrupt family, but out of that lineage rose Robert Wicks. At the age of 17, he became fed up with his family of liars and cheaters and set out on his own without any family money whatsoever. He had been determined to set right the crimes his father and grandfathers had committed by simply living a good life and helping the people he came in contact with. It had been a bold move that would shape the rest of his life.

Robert eventually found his way to law school. He paid his way through by working as many part-time jobs as he could. After years of this life, he graduated 3rd in his class and found a job at a small firm in Little Rock. He worked there about six years, building his trial skills and establishing a healthy buzz as an excited young lawyer with all the right ideals. He moved to Memphis at the age of 37 to join the city's District Attorney office. After five years in the department, he found himself in a position to become the head of the DA's office. The man who had been the top DA was exposed by the police as a corrupt lawyer who graciously accepted and offered countless bribes on over 70% of the cases he had tried as a DA. To replace him, the city needed someone they could count on to take his place. They needed an honest man who had proven his skills as a lawyer and whose morals could not be doubted. Wicks and another lawyer in the office were both up for the spot. The other man, Alfred Loeb, hired a private investigator to find some dirt on Wicks. It wasn't long before Robert's entire family history was paraded before all of Memphis. Wicks responded by explaining his contempt for his family and how he had turned his back on their values and money, even refusing to accept the inheritance when his father died and left him the only heir to the Wicks fortune. Instead, Wicks had immediately donated the money to various charities to help the people who really needed it. With this new information, Robert Wicks was the obvious choice for the job. He was asked to fill the position and gladly accepted. Now he had been the head of the DA's office for eleven years.

Oculus smiled to himself as he watched Wicks from a ledge outside the man's office. This was definitely someone who would gladly help him take down Sonance.

Wicks was sitting at his desk studying the evidence for his afternoon trial when he was distracted by a knock on his window. He turned around and nearly fell out of his seat when he saw Oculus standing there. Oculus knocked again and motioned for him to unlock the window. Robert reluctantly did so and slid the pane of glass up high enough for Oculus to crawl through.

"Are you who I think you are?" asked Wicks as he shut the window back.

"Yeah, I'm Oculus. I need your help." Scott seemed to brush the introductions off. They weren't very important to him after all. He already knew who Wicks was.

"My help? With what?" asked Wicks, still very much confused.

"A few months ago your assistant was killed by Sonance. You immediately retaliated in the press by basically calling Sonance out. Am I right about all that?"

Wicks nodded slowly.

"Then its safe to assume you're an enemy of Sonance?"

Again, Wicks just nodded.

"Then I need your help. Last February you tried a young pimp, Billy something?"

"Yeah," said Wicks as he thought back to the trial, "Billy Bines. He got off on a plea bargain. It turned out he had information on some drug traffickers that we'd been investigating for months. He got a fine and some community service, but ultimately nothing more than a slap on the wrists."

Scott sighed inwardly. It was just another sign of how the system could actually work in favor of the criminals! "You know where he lives?"

"I can find out. I'll have my secretary look it up."

"Do it," said Oculus, pointing to the intercom on Wicks' desk.

Wicks leaned over and pressed the button to speak into the intercom. "Doris, look up the address for Billy Bines. He's the pimp from this winter."

"Yes, sir," came the reply.

It was only two to three minutes before Doris rang back with the address.

"Sir, its 267 Brentview Street, apt. B."

"Thanks Doris." Wicks looked up to Oculus. "There you are. 267 Brentview."

"Thanks," said Oculus, one foot already out the window again.

"Hey wait," said Wicks with one hand raised towards Scott. "If you need any help catching Sonance, let me know. I hired a private investigator not long after he killed Nelson. I don't have many facts, but I do have some educated guesses and opinions."

"Like what?" asked Oculus, intrigued by the man's desire to bring Sonance down.

"Well, so far everyone he's killed, except this last guy in the prison, has been an assistant to someone very high up in the city government. Also, I've noticed that each murder has come at a time when one particular man was having some problems with boss of each of the slain. For example, the week before Nelson was killed, I had gotten into a very heated discussion with this particular guy."

"Who?" asked Oculus simply.

"Ron Driscoll, the police commissioner."

"Driscoll? You really think he could be Sonance?"

"Either that or there are some crazy coincidences going on. Either way, I firmly believe Sonance is a city official of some kind."

Oculus began crawling back through the window again. "Thanks for the help, Mr. Wicks. Keep your window unlocked. I'll be back to talk to you again."

"Will do. And let me know how it goes with Billy."

Oculus was already gone by the time the words escaped Wicks' lips.

==========

Blood dripped from the corners of Billy Bines' mouth. His hands were tied behind his back and he could sense that all his weight rested on his wrists and the rope around them. As he slowly slipped back into consciousness, he realized he couldn't see anything.

"It's been a long time, Billy."

That voice! He had heard that voice somewhere before, though Billy just couldn't place it right now.

"The last time we met you stabbed me in the leg. I doubt you'll be so lucky this time."

Now he remembered! The voice belonged to that guy who had found him when he was choking Vicki!

Oculus let his fingers finally slip away from Billy's face, allowing him to see again. Billy immediately screamed and began jerking around. He was looking straight down the side of the tallest building in Memphis, his feet planted against the outer wall.

"I need you to answer some questions for me now," said Oculus.

"What is this?!" screamed Billy. "You can't kill me!"

"I know you're working for Sonance," Scott was ignoring the man's pleas. "Who's your target?"

Billy was silent for a moment as he jerked against the rope that held him to the side of the building. "I don't know what you're talkin' about!"

Oculus slapped the taut rope with his hand, causing it to shake and giving Billy the distinct feeling that he was about to fall to his death.

"Don't lie to me. I know you're working for him. Now tell me who you're supposed to kill!"

Billy sighed. "I can't!"

"Look down, Billy. That's a long way to fall. I don't think your bones would even survive the impact. You'd probably be completely squashed when you slammed into the pavement. So why don't you rethink that last statement and try again."

Billy sat still for a moment, obviously weighing out his situation in his mind.

"The target's a cop. Jim Flass."

"Why Flass?"

"Don't know. They didn't tell us."

"When and where, Billy?"

"Tomorrow at seven AM, his house."

"How?"

"Car bomb under his car."

"Anything else I should know?"

Billy thought for a second. "No, that's it."

"Good. You've been a great help, Billy."

With that, Oculus landed a nerve strike on the back of Billy's neck and knocked him completely out cold.

==========

"Is there any trouble within the MPD right now?" asked Oculus. He was back in Wick's office. Wicks was spending the night at work to prepare for a big trial the next day.

"Only one thing I know of," said Wicks. "Driscoll's got some problems with a few of his lieutenants."

"Which ones?"

"Rieger. Howell. Flass. He's mad at those three especially."

Oculus glanced up at the name Flass. "Why?"

A smile crossed Wicks' face. "'Cause they can't catch you! You may not know it, but Driscoll is obsessed with finding you, dead or alive. It doesn't matter to him as long as you're off the streets."

Oculus smiled faintly as well. "So I've heard. You think he's angry enough to kill one of his lieutenants though?"

"Maybe. What'd you hear?"

"That Flass is the target. Supposedly they're gonna try a car bomb in the morning."

"I'd check up on it. It could very well be true. At this point, I don't trust Driscoll any farther than I can throw him."

==========

Oculus waited the next morning outside the Flass home. When Lt. Flass came out to go to work, Oculus swooped down to stand between him and the car.

"Might wanna take a cab today, Lieutenant."

Flass dropped his briefcase and stared at Oculus. "You! What are you doing here?!"

"Trying to help you. Sonance planted a bomb on your car during the night."

Flass eyed him suspiciously. "Why?"

"Don't know," said Scott. "But I suggest laying low for a while." He walked over to the car, stooped down, and reached under the front bumper. Flass watched as Oculus stood back up with a small brown box and a few loose wires in his hands.

"Might wanna watch your back pretty closely for a few weeks. As of right now, you're a walking bullseye."

Oculus dropped the bomb and used his grappling hook to take off into the air, leaving the dumbfounded Flass standing in his own yard in shock.


	15. Know Thy Enemy

**A/N:** Wow, this chapter proved quite a bit harder to write than I expected. But once I got started it flowed alright. Anyway, thanks a bunch for the plethora of reviews. I should mention that I was out of town last week which is why this chapter is being posted a week later than expected. Sorry, but I've got things to do! Basically this chapter is setting up some important things that you need to know. I hope you enjoy it! By the way, I think you'll all love the next chapter. Let's just say it's not going to feature near as much Scott as the last few chapters have. Until next time!

* * *

"You really think it's him?" asked Oculus.

"I've told you, it's him. There's not a doubt in my mind!" Wicks was leaning back in the leather chair at his desk. Visits with Oculus were becoming more and more frequent as the two worked together to find a way to catch Sonance. As always, they now sat in Wicks' office after everyone else in the department had gone home. They'd already been here for nearly an hour.

"Okay, let's say it is him," said Oculus. "Why? Why would Driscoll, the commissioner of the police force, turn himself into some sort of supervillain?"

"I don't know," conceded Wicks, leaning forward to place his elbows on the desk and lean his chin into his hands. "I've been trying to answer that one for months. Maybe he's just spent so many years analyzing the so-called criminal mind that he managed to convince himself that he had more than just the gift to understand it. Y'know? Maybe he convinced himself that he actually _had_ that mind."

Oculus shook his head. "That doesn't make sense to me. Its not enough to turn a cop into a killer."

"Okay, then try this possibility. Driscoll has personally arrested hundreds of criminals in his career. He's seen the best and the worst of them. Maybe, after decades of watching them, he started thinking about what they should have done to avoid getting caught. With each arrest he makes, he sees another way to mess up and get caught and, therefore, another way to avoid getting caught. So finally he starts realizing that, with this understanding, he could get away with anything 'cause he knows the secrets. He knows what to do. He knows how to cover his tracks so the police can't follow him. He knows everything about how the police work. Plus, and this is the big one, he's the Police Commissioner! He can throw the whole department off the trail with the snap of his fingers! Its so easy for him that he decides he's gonna try it out. He creates this Sonance alter ego and starts carrying out smalltime murders and crimes around the city. Finally, he moves into big time crime. He hires some goons to do the dirty work while he runs everything from the background. Next thing ya know, the city's in the middle of a crime spree and the police can't find the criminal mastermind because he's constantly leading them in the wrong direction!"

Oculus thought about the scenario for a moment, his body completely still as he meditated on all the possibilities. "It still just doesn't feel right, Robert. I mean, the guy's no saint by any means. But to pull off this whole Sonance thing would take a really sick and twisted mind. He's killing people left and right, and for what? As much as he wants us to think its all political, lets not forget that he's only been killing underlings, no offense to your assistant."

"None taken."

"So far," continued Oculus, "he's tried to kill twelve people and he's been successful eleven times. Of those eleven, ten had strong ties to city officials. The one murder that was prevented was Flass, one of Driscoll's best lieutenants. So here's my question. You're convinced Driscoll is Sonance. What evidence do you have to support that?"

Wicks cracked a small smile as he comfortably leaned back into his chair again. "Let's go through the murders one by one."

"Sounds good," said Oculus.

"First murder, Danny Wahlberg." Wicks grabbed a stack of papers off a shelf behind him and laid them on his desk as he spoke. On top of the stack was a picture of Wahlberg. "Danny was a hometown boy, one of the best runningbacks that ever came through Memphis State. His dad was Paul Wahlberg, city councilman. Paul had criticized Driscoll just a month before his boy was killed. He complained at one of the council meetings that the MPD wasn't doing its job. He basically said the place had become a fraternity of lazy cops who liked to sit around and pretend they were serving the citizens of Memphis. Needless to say, Driscoll didn't take it well. He blew up when a news reporter asked him about it. Told the reporter that if Wahlberg thought he could do a better job, then he should give it a try. Otherwise, he said Wahlberg could shut his damn mouth. Danny was shot in the neck two weeks later and bled to death on the sidewalk in front of the Galleria mall. It's now considered to be Sonance's first crime in Memphis. Interesting sidenote, Ron Driscoll was the first cop on the scene. He was 'in the area.'"

"So you think Driscoll killed Danny himself?"

"I think Driscoll happened to see Danny at the mall and got angry as he started thinking about what the kid's dad had said. I think he followed Danny outside, hid behind a tree or a wall or something while Danny was walking to his car, and shot him with the gun issued to him by the police department."

"Can you prove that?" asked Oculus.

"No, unfortunately. The bullet went straight through the boy's neck. In one side and out the other. It's probably lodged in a tree next to the Galleria's parking lot, but CSI never found it."

"So Driscoll's got an obvious motive and opportunity for murder number one. Did anybody else have another reason to kill Danny?"

Wicks shrugged. "Not that we know of."

"Anything else?"

"Well, Paul Wahlberg isn't running for reelection this year. Other than that, no."

Oculus nodded and took one more glance at the face of Danny Wahlberg lying on the desk in front of him.

"Alright, on to murder number two then."

"Murder two," said Wicks as he slid Danny's picture to the side to reveal the picture right below it, "was another young man named Vince Jergow. He worked for Katherine Enders, the woman in charge of marketing the city. She runs the department that makes all those TV ads you see promoting Memphis as the cultural highlight of the Delta. Basically, if this was New York, she'd be the one behind the whole 'I heart NY' thing."

"Okay, so what's her link to Driscoll?"

"She agreed with Wahlberg's comments. She told the local news team that it was getting harder and harder to promote Memphis thanks to the escalating crime rate. She blamed that on a lazy police department. Jergow was killed just a week after Wahlberg."

"Incriminating evidence against Driscoll?" asked Oculus.

"Remember what he said about Walhberg?"

"Yeah."

"That was directed at Enders too."

"Okay. Anything solid?"

"No."

Oculus leaned back a little and stretched his arms. "I hope the other murders have more than that to point to Driscoll as the guy behind it. Frankly Robert, Driscoll telling someone to 'shut their damn mouth' isn't exactly beyond a shadow of a doubt type of evidence."

"Sonance is good," said Wicks. "He's not gonna leave us a slip of paper with his social security number or anything. Any evidence you find to point you towards this guy, whether its Driscoll or not, is just gonna be circumstantial stuff."

"Good point," conceded Oculus. "Next?"

Wicks revealed the next picture on the desk. "Cameron Griffin. He worked for Melissa McDaniel."

==========

The two men went on for another hour reviewing Sonance's crimes. Each murder had a connection to Driscoll in some way or another. Usually the victim worked for a city official who had complained about the police department. One victim had worked for a man who opined to the local news station that Driscoll was no longer the right man to hold the Commissioner's office.

"So," said Oculus when they were done reviewing the murders, "how do I know you're not making this up?"

Wicks looked up at his face for a second before answering. "Don't trust me?"

"No, I trust you. Honestly, I'm starting to see what you're saying. Driscoll definitely had a motive for each one of these murders. I guess I'm asking why you're helping me."

Wicks took off his reading glasses and set them on the desk. "Because this guy killed a good friend of mine. Nelson had been my assistant for almost ten years before they killed him. I want to see Sonance captured and put where he belongs. And if I'm right about Driscoll, then you're my only chance of seeing that happen. He can control the entire police force, but he can't control you."

Oculus nodded. "It just seems so cowardly."

"Excuse me?" said Wicks, a little surprised by the statement.

"Not you," said Oculus. "I meant Sonance. He never kills the person in charge. It's always their assistant. If he's trying to make a political statement, then why not kill the guy that the public knows?"

"If I'm right, then it isn't political at all. Its just one man's bruised ego coming out when someone insults him."

"Right, but let's assume for a second that it is political. Let's assume he's trying to make a statement. Why not kill the guy in charge? I mean, what he's doing is like killing the Secretary of State because you have a problem with the President."

"Well, I do have one theory if that's the case," said Wicks. "If you kill the person in charge, then all you do make the city angry. When they refill that position, they're not going to give in to what you want them to do. But if you just kill their assistant, or son, or whoever, then the person in charge is still around and he's scared. He knows that if you can kill his right-hand man, you can kill him. He's constantly afraid that you'll come after him if he makes you angry. So he gives in to your commands just a little bit."

"So has Sonance made any commands? Has he ever said that he wants something to happen?"

"No, and that's why I think its personal."

Oculus stood up from his seat for the first time in about two hours. "So what do you know about Sonance? I mean, what details do you know about his organization and how he runs things?"

"What makes you think I know anything?"

"You certainly seem to know more than most people. I figure you've hired some private investigator or something to check it out for you. I wanna know what you know. Maybe there's something I haven't discovered that will help me out."

Wicks smiled and glanced at his watch. "I knew you were bright. You're right, I did hire someone. Unfortunately I don't have time to get into that right now. I've got plans for tonight."

Oculus glanced at the clock on the wall. It was nearing 8:00pm. "What sort of plans?"

"I've got tickets to Les Miserables tonight at the Orpheum," said Wicks as he stood and reached for his jacket. "I've been planning on going for months. Sorry, we'll talk more about this later."

Oculus sighed to himself. "Fine, come back here when it's over. I'll be back around midnight. We'll continue then."

"Sounds good," said Wicks. He extended his hand towards Oculus. "Until later."

Oculus gripped Wicks' hand in his own and shook it for just a second. Wicks turned around to grab his glasses off his desk. When he looked back up, the window was open and Oculus was gone.

==========

The next four hours were pretty slow for Oculus. He made his normal rounds through the city quite a bit faster than usual, but there just wasn't anything going on. Deep down he knew that was a good thing. It meant the criminals of Memphis were realizing that they would be caught if they tried anything and so they simply weren't trying. But it still made things boring for Oculus.

As it got close to 12:00, he made his way back towards Wicks' office. The light was already on when he got there so Oculus just slipped through the window silently. Wicks was sitting at his desk with some paperwork in front of him.

"How was the play?" asked Oculus.

Wicks set his pen down and looked up. "Great, except for the actor playing Marius. That kid couldn't find a key if you threw it at him, which I might add, the other actors were trying to do all night. He was horrible. I've never heard "Empty Chairs at Empty Tables" sung so badly!"

Oculus gave his friend a strange look as he returned to his chair across the room. "Bad singer, huh?"

Wicks smirked. "The worst. I don't know how he got the role."

"Anyway," said Scott in attempt to change the subject. He had been working with Wicks for two weeks now but had never seen him this upset, especially over something so small. "I believe you were about to tell me what you knew about Sonance's organization?"

Wicks shook his head as if to force the sound of the actor's voice out of his mind. "Yeah, that's right. So here's what I know. He never kills anyone himself. He always has someone else do it for him. When he wants to order a murder, he somehow calls all his thugs to some warehouse in the shipping district. Apparently only a few of the thugs are selected to perform the hit and the others just leave and wait for the next one."

"Right, I knew all that," said Oculus. "Actually, I know exactly which warehouse it is. He calls them there by sending out some high frequency pitch that extends around the downtown area. He's found a way for all his thugs to hear it without the whole city hearing it. They all go to this warehouse where they're met by two guys named Prism and Lout, both mutants. They hand pick the guys who are gonna perform the hit and send the rest home. Then they give the selected thugs their orders and send 'em on their way."

"Prism and Lout?" asked Wicks slowly.

"Yeah, you know 'em?"

"I've heard those names before." Wicks started rubbing his chin as he thought. "Yeah, I remember them now! Cassidy told me about them. He said they're mutants, like you said."

"Cassidy?"

"The guy I hired to dig around in Sonance's organization."

"Where is he?"

"Dead. He got too close and they killed him."

Oculus looked up in shock. It wasn't the fact that Cassidy was killed that shocked him. It was the ease Wicks seemed to have in telling him about Cassidy's fate. He mentally shook the thought away. It wasn't important enough to find out why Wicks apparently felt no remorse about Cassidy's death.

"Did he know their powers?" asked Oculus.

Wicks smiled, now remembering everything he had been told about the two thugs. "Yeah, he did. Lout's got some sort of superstrength. Cassidy said he was every bit as strong as ten guys, if not more. He said he actually saw the guy lift a pick-up truck with one hand. Prism's power is a little different though. I never really understood exactly how it worked to tell you the truth. Apparently the guy's made of glass or something…"

"Basically. His body looks a lot like clouded glass when you see it," interrupted Oculus.

"Right, that's what Cassidy said. Anyway, apparently the guy can refract light beams as they pass through him. He can use it to direct incredibly bright lights at stuff and can focus it on a tiny area. I'm sure there's more too that I just don't know."

"What about Sonance himself?" asked Oculus. "I've heard he's a mutant too."

"Don't know," said Wicks. "That's the rumor around town but no one can prove it. Even Cassidy, who did some great work by the way, never saw Sonance unless he saw him the night he died."

"Okay, so what else did Cassidy find?"

"That was pretty much it. Think it's enough to catch us a mob boss?"

"I hope so. It's all we got."

==========

"Hey Mandy," said Ron Driscoll to his secretary as he entered his office the next morning.

"Hey boss. How's it goin'?"

"Good. Good," said Driscoll. He unlocked his door and stepped into the office quickly. He didn't turn on the light, instead leaving the room lit only by a small reading lamp on his desk. As usual, he planned on taking a small 15-minute nap before getting to work. He let out a soft grunt as he sat down in his chair and leaned back. The thought crossed his mind that groaning as you sit down has got to be some sort of indicator that you're getting old.

"Didn't get enough sleep last night?" asked a voice suddenly.

Driscoll looked up quickly and scanned the dark room frantically. He couldn't see anyone, but there were shadows everywhere.

"Who's in here?!" demanded Driscoll.

"I don't think we've officially met, Mr. Driscoll. The name's Oculus." As he spoke, Oculus stepped out of the shadows in the corner of the room and extended his hand to the Commissioner.

Driscoll jumped out of his chair immediately. "You! How'd you get in here?!"

"Not important," said Oculus, lowering his hand. "What is important is the message I'm here to bring you."

"And what is that?" asked Driscoll, trying hard to sound as intimidating as possible.

"That I know who you are. I know the life you've been leading for the last year and I'm here to tell you its over."

Driscoll's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"Do you read the Bible, Commissioner?"

"Not since I was ten years old."

"There's a story in the Old Testament about an evil, corrupt Babylonian king. As he's throwing a huge party, a hand appears out of nowhere. The whole party stops and watches this disembodied hand as it floats across the room and starts writing on the wall. You have any idea what it wrote?"

"What?"

"That the king's reign was coming to an end. Consider me the hand of God, Commissioner. I will personally make sure this little crime spree of yours ends soon."

There was a short pause as Driscoll realized what Oculus was suggesting. Oculus took the opportunity to step over to the open window. As he put his first leg out, Driscoll finally responded.

"How dare you! There's only one criminal in this room and he's the one wearing a mask!"

Oculus looked back over his shoulder at Driscoll. "Commissioner, I learned long ago that a mask can be much more than the physical piece of equipment I wear. More often than not, it's a personality. And yours is starting to get much more transparent."

Driscoll started to answer, but Oculus jumped out the window and used his grappling hook to pull him up to the roof across the street. From there, he gave a quick wave to Driscoll before dashing away out of the man's sight.


	16. Reunion

**A/N:** Hi and thanks for all the wonderful reviews. A quick note to Blowfish the Monkey Tamer and madleinx, just as neither of you were able to see my email address, I couldn't see yours. My address is commissioned19 at hotmail . com (without all the spaces. The website won't let me type any sort of URL or email address here) for anyone who wants to send me an email but can't get the new system of showing email addresses to work. However, I will say to Blowfish the Monkey Tamer right now that I've never experienced anything similar to the situation you described. The best advice I have is to email the support team and ask what's going on.

Just a reminder that I want each and every one of you to come check out the Lunaverse, a message board I frequent. You can find a link on my profile page.

I'm going to apologize ahead of time for the cliffhanger at the end of this chapter. The next few chapters are all going to cover about 48 hours so it's gonna be really hard not to have any cliffhangers. Just keep in mind that the cliffhanger could have been much, much worse.

And now, without further adieu, I finally give you what every single one of you wants. Ladies and gentlemen, the X-Men are back!

* * *

Over the last eight and a half years, Charles Xavier had developed a rather unique morning ritual. The first thing he did after getting out of bed each morning was go downstairs to Cerebro and use the giant machine to search for Scott Summers. He began this ritual the day after Scott left the mansion. For the first year, he had encountered no trouble in pinpointing Scott's location. He had essentially watched as Scott traveled around the United States for 16 months. But at that 16-month mark, Scott had moved to England. It was at this point that Scott's mind had begun to grow faint to Xavier. By the time Scott had been away for 2 full years, the Professor was no longer able to find him anywhere, which meant one of three things were true. Either Scott was dead, he had devised a helmet similar to Magneto's, or he had simply trained his mind against telepaths to the point that even Cerebro couldn't penetrate his mental barriers. Since the signal had faded away over months, Xavier assumed the third scenario was true. Since then, Scott's location had been a complete mystery to the X-Men. Despite the certainty Xavier felt that he would never find Scott with Cerebro, he held on to hope. It was this hope that called him down to Cerebro this morning to search the globe for Scott's still familiar brain pattern. As expected, the search was just as fruitless as past ones. Xavier sighed as he lifted the metal headgear from his head and returned it to the stand in front of him. As he turned to leave Cerebro, it occurred to him how pointless this ongoing search was. Still, he knew he would be back in just 24 hours to try again. It was simply his nature to be optimistic. 

Soon, Xavier found himself reading the morning paper at the head of the dining table. Kitty, Rogue, Bobby, and Hank were all scattered around the table as well enjoying their own small breakfasts.

"Anything new going on, Charles?" asked Hank, motioning towards the newspaper.

Xavier glanced up for a moment. "I'm afraid not. The President leaves for China today, Kelly's being himself, and a helicopter crashed just outside of Albany last evening. Other than that, the world seems quiet."

"What about Peter Fossberg's dinosaur dig in Malaysia? Have they found anything yet?"

Xavier looked up at Hank with a friendly, yet sarcastic smile. "I'm afraid _The Bayville Sun_ doesn't cover archeological digs in Malaysia. You'll have to look that one up on the Internet."

Hank smirked as he returned to his breakfast. "No thirst for knowledge in this town," he muttered.

"So when is Remy coming home?" asked Kitty, turning to Rogue.

"Another week at least," answered Rogue. Remy was currently out of town along with Logan, Piotr, and Alex. The Professor had not mentioned the details of their trip to any of the other X-Men, but Remy had let it slip to Rogue just before he left that they were going to Morocco to watch over the new American ambassador to the country. The ambassador was a mutant and many groups in the region had threatened to kill him. Xavier had sent his four best fighters to keep an eye on him for his first few weeks in office just in case. Having high-ranking mutants in the government could help lead to higher levels of equality. It just wouldn't do for those officials to be assassinated before they had a chance to change people's preconceived stereotypes. However, the American government was completely unaware of the X-Men's presence in Morocco and Xavier wanted to make sure it stayed that way. For one thing, the X-Men's actions in this case were quite illegal. So he had decided not to let the news spread, not even around the team, if he could avoid it.

"You sure you don't wanna tell us exactly what those guys are up to, Professor?" coaxed Bobby.

Xavier never looked up from his newspaper as he replied. "You already know much more than you should. The mission is supposedly top secret and the details of the trip will remain so."

"Thought we were a team," said Bobby playfully. "Shouldn't we get to know what's going on?"

"Never let your left hand know what your right hand is doing," said Hank. "Jesus gave that little piece of advice. The Professor is merely following it."

"True," said Kurt from the doorway as he entered the room and sat down with his own piece of toast and cream cheese. "But the principle being put forth wasn't meant to be applied to teams like the X-Men. Christ meant that we shouldn't perform our good deeds in the public so we can gloat about them. Rather, we should do them in private so that our intentions can't be questioned."

"Thank you Father Nightcrawler," said Bobby with a grin.

Kurt frowned. "I'm not a priest yet."

"Whatever," said Bobby as he stood from the table. "I'm off. I'll see you guys later."

"See ya later, Bobby," said Kitty and Rogue.

Kurt began spreading the cream cheese onto his toast just as Xavier set down the front page of the paper.

"Could you pass that over here," asked Kurt.

"Sure," said Xavier as he slid the section across the table. Kurt picked it up and started scanning through the national news while he began munching on his breakfast.

It was about that time that Jean emerged into the room and sat down across the table from Kitty and Rogue. "How'd you girls sleep last night?" she asked.

Rogue yawned. "Not well. It's hard ta sleep too soundly with Remy on a mission."

"I know what you mean," said Jean. "Trust me, it's no easier on me."

"Hmm," said Kurt loudly, attracting everyone's attention to him for a moment. He seemed enthralled by something in the newspaper.

"Find something interesting?" asked Hank.

"Yeah," said Kurt without glancing up. "Apparently there's a new superhero in the business."

Rogue sighed. "Another one? We've already got Spider-man an' Daredevil!"

"I'll bet they're talking about Iron Man," said Kitty. "I've heard some people from the city talking about this new guy who's only been around a few months who calls himself Iron Man. They don't know much about him yet though."

"Actually," said Kurt while he read the article, "this guy isn't in New York. He's in Memphis!"

"Memphis?" asked Rogue interestedly. "Ah've been there. Who is he?"

"He calls himself Oculus," said Kurt, "and apparently he's pretty secretive. The news cameras just can't seem to find any pictures of him. Plus, he only goes out at night. It says here he's never been seen during the day at all."

Kitty giggled. "Fighting crime just doesn't pay the bills anymore!"

"Apparently not," continued Kurt. "Except for Spider-man. I still say he's getting paid for all those pictures of him in the Daily Bugle."

"Kurt, the Bugle goes out of its way to make Spider-man look like a menace," said Jean.

"Yeah but how else could they get such great shots of him day after day? I'm telling you, that guy's got a deal with the Bugle. I know Warren says he's a good guy and all, but he's gotta pay the bills somehow."

"So about this Oculus," said Hank, "what do they know about him?"

Kurt looked back down at the newspaper and began scanning for details. "Not much," he said as he skimmed the article. "But he's really done a number on Memphis' crime rate. Plus, he's apparently a pretty good detective. It says here that he's busted criminals that the cops were still months from catching."

"So he's good at what he does and he's bright," noted Xavier.

"Apparently so," said Kurt. "You think he could be a mutant?"

"It's possible," said Xavier. "We already know Spider-man and Daredevil are human, but it wouldn't be too outrageous for a mutant to follow their lead."

"I think we should find him," said Kurt, now setting the paper down. "If he is a mutant, then he could really help out around here once I'm gone."

"I agree," said Jean. "We're on the lookout for potential replacements for Kurt anyway. Why not find this guy and see if he'd be interested."

Xavier nodded. "I suppose it couldn't hurt to look into him. He's apparently the type of man who likes to help people. Would any of you like to volunteer to go find him?"

Rogue was the first to accept the offer. "Sure, Ah'd love to. It's been a while since Ah been down South an' Ah've been thinkin' lately how good a cold Dr. Pepper sounds. Besides, I'd love to get out of the house for a while since Remy's already gone anyway."

"I'll go, too," said Jean. "I'm with Rogue. It'd be nice to get out of town a little bit."

"Kurt, what about you?" asked Xavier. "After all, he would be your potential replacement."

"Sure," said Kurt. "I'm up for one last trip before I leave."

"Kitty? Hank? Would either of you be interested?"

"No thanks, Charles," said the blue beast as he sipped his coffee. "I'm fine here."

"I would go, but I just can't right now," said Kitty. "I've got a huge paper due in three days and I just can't leave."

"Fair enough," said Xavier. "When would the three of you like to go?"

Kurt, Jean, and Rogue all looked at each other for a moment before Jean answered. "How about tomorrow morning?"

"Sounds good," said Kurt. Rogue echoed the sentiment.

"Then it's decided," stated Xavier with an air of finality. "Tomorrow morning you three can take the Blackbird to Memphis to find this Oculus character."

==========

Kurt, Jean, and Rogue walked quickly through the streets of Memphis as if they were residents of the city. They had left the Blackbird in a field across the river where no one would find it and were now walking down Union Street and wondering aloud how they were going to find a man that no one had even managed to get a picture of.

"What about the police?" suggested Rogue. "Maybe he's got a friendly connection with them."

"Maybe, but then why do we say we're looking for him?" asked Jean.

Rogue smiled. "Ah didn't say they'd help us. Just that he might be friends with' em."

"We could always look for him tonight while he does his crime fighter thing," suggested Kurt.

"It's a big city," said Rogue. "Ah doubt we'd find 'im."

"Good point."

"Jean, think your powers could help us out?" asked Rogue.

"It'd be nice, but no," said Jean. "There are too many people in the city to scan and, besides, I don't even know who I'm looking for."

"Well then it sounds like the police are our best bet!" said Rogue.

Kurt shrugged. "It's worth a try."

==========

The police station was absolutely buzzing when the three mutants walked through the front door. There were people moving quickly in every direction. It was obvious that something was going on. Jean led the way to the front desk.

"Excuse me."

The secretary never let her eyes leave the computer. "Yes?"

"We were wondering if we could talk to someone about Oculus."

The young woman at the desk immediately stopped typing and turned to look up at the three people standing in front of her.

"You have information about Oculus?" she asked interestedly.

"Well, no…" began Jean.

The secretary interrupted her before she could get started. "Go up those stairs to your right and find Lieutenant Flass' office. I'll let him know you're coming."

Jean nodded her head in shock and the three X-Men turned to follow the secretary's directions.

"It worked?" whispered Kurt as they climbed the stairs.

"I guess so," said Jean. "I don't know how, but I guess it did."

They didn't have to search long for Flass' office. He was already at the door to his department to welcome them in.

"Hello! How are you three doing today?" he said cheerily as he motioned them into his office.

"Uh, we're fine," said Jean, still a little confused.

Flass shut his office door after everyone had filed inside and then moved around to sit at his desk.

"So you three have information about Oculus?" he asked.

"Actually, we're _looking_ for information about Oculus," said Jean.

Flass' smile disappeared instantly.

"You kids aren't here about this morning, are you?" he asked dejectedly.

They all shook their heads slowly.

"No," said Jean after a moment. "Why? What happened this morning?"

Flass stood up and began moving back towards the door again.

"Nothing. The truth is we're looking for information on Oculus too. There must have been misunderstanding. Now, I'm sorry but I'm pretty busy right now so I'm going to have to ask you three to go," said Flass, opening the door for them to leave.

"Wait," said Rogue as she stood up. "Could you just tell us how we might find him?"

"Believe me ma'am, if I knew how to do that I'd have already done it myself."

It didn't take long for Kurt, Jean, and Rogue to get pushed out of the police station and back onto the streets once Flass realized they didn't have any information for him. The crowd itself seemed to force them back outside.

"What was that about?" asked Rogue with a huff.

"No clue," said Kurt as they began walking down the street.

"I know," said Jean. "I read the lieutenant's mind. Apparently Oculus broke into the station just an hour before we got here and waited in the Police Commissioner's office."

"Did they get in a fight?" asked Rogue.

"No, they just talked. Oculus accused the commissioner of being a criminal and promised to bring him to justice."

"That explains the urgency in the crowd," said Kurt.

"Yeah," agreed Jean. "So where do we try next? The media?"

"Ah guess," said Rogue.

==========

At 6:30 that evening, Kurt, Rogue, and Jean found themselves having dinner in a small downtown restaurant. They had checked everywhere they could think to check during the day and were now no closer to finding Oculus than they had been when they arrived in Memphis. The situation was beginning to look hopeless. As they finished up their dinners, they began talking about the day and where else they might check tomorrow.

"I'm thinking the guy just simply doesn't wanna be found!" said Rogue finally.

"I understand the need for secrecy, but for no one to have a clue as to how to find him? This is just crazy!" said Jean.

"Maybe we should just start asking random people," joked Kurt. "Like the guy who owns this restaurant," he said pointing towards the manager walking towards them with their refills.

"Here you are," said the manager as he set the drinks on the table. "You guys need anything else?"

Kurt smiled. "Yeah, you don't happen to know where we could find Oculus, do you."

Jean, Rogue, and Kurt all laughed at the absurdity of the question. If the police didn't even know where to find Oculus, how could some random restaurant owner?

Suddenly it occurred to Jean that the owner wasn't laughing.

"Actually," he said, "I do."

The table stopped laughing now and leaned forward as the man squatted next to their table.

"Why are you looking for him though?"

"You're kidding me!" said Kurt under his breath. "You know Oculus?!"

"No, but I've seen him a few times. But why are you looking for him?"

The X-Men glanced around the table at each other for a second before anyone answered. The man had no idea what their names were. It couldn't hurt to tell him the truth.

"We're pretty similar to Oculus in a lot of ways," said Rogue. "Ah guess you could say that we're all part of a team of superheroes. We wanted to ask Oculus to join us."

Now it was the man's turn to laugh. "You're superheroes who came to Memphis to recruit Oculus?" he said once his laughter had died down some. "Now that's funny."

The three X-Men smiled nervously.

"But you seem like nice kids. I'll tell you what I know. Every night at 10:00, Oculus' rounds through the city bring him right past this restaurant. I've seen him at least four times on the roof of the building across the street around 10:00 as I went home. My assistant manager's seen him too. I tell ya what, it makes you feel so much safer to know that guy's around."

"You think if we were around here at that time tonight that we could see him too?" asked Jean.

"Sure, probably so," said the man. He stood up now and handed them a bill for their dinner. "You can pay the cashier when you're ready."

He turned and started walking off. Kurt, Jean, and Rogue all watched him as he walked away. Suddenly he stopped and glanced back over his shoulder at them for a second.

"A team of superheroes…" he mumbled before breaking out in laughter again as he went back to the kitchen.

==========

Rogue glanced at her watch. "10:00," she said. "He oughtta be here any minute."

They were now standing on the roof that the restaurant owner had mentioned to them. Kurt was lying on his back on the edge of the roof and looking up at the stars. He still had his image inducer turned on just to make sure they didn't freak out Oculus when he showed up. Rogue was standing up with her arms crossed and watching the city skyline for any sign of a shadow moving through the darkness. Jean was sitting on an air conditioning unit with her eyes closed maintaining a constant telepathic scan of the entire city block. If anyone got remotely close to the three X-Men, she would know. They wanted to be ready for Oculus' arrival.

"There goes the restaurant manager," said Rogue.

Kurt rolled his head to the side and looked down to the street below in time to see the man lock his restaurant and walk down the sidewalk.

"When is this guy gonna get here?" asked Rogue to herself.

Kurt opened his mouth to propose that perhaps Oculus was distracted by some random criminal elsewhere in the city, but he opted instead to remain quiet and look back to the sky. He was enjoying the clear night and the unobstructed view of what stars could be seen through the city's bright lights. He began praying silently as he stared upward. It was times like this that made him feel closest to his Father.

"I wish he'd get here," said Rogue, turning around to watch the skyline behind her. "I'm tellin' ya, after all this trouble, this guy better at least consider joinin' us."

"Trying to concentrate over here," said Jean. Her voice was calm but there was a definite tone of annoyance in there too.

Rogue smirked and apologized half-heartedly.

==========

It was shaping up to be another calm night in Memphis. Oculus leapt across a small alley and continued making his rounds through the major tourist part of downtown. So far the only action he'd seen tonight was a half-rate mugging by the river. Three punches and the man was out cold. Scott sighed. This was just getting too calm, too predictable, too easy.

Suddenly he heard voices from the next roof. Oculus slowed down and began moving silently towards the ledge of the roof he was already on. He peered over the knee-high brick wall and looked down. The next building was about two stories shorter than the one Oculus was currently sitting on so he was able to look down on them from nearly directly above so that they couldn't see him. There were three people on the other roof, one sitting down, one lying down, and one pacing back and forth with their arms crossed. Oculus watched them for a minute, trying to figure out what they were doing.

Were they waiting to rob someone? No, who were they gonna rob on a roof?

Maybe they were lookouts for someone else. But if so, they were pretty lousy lookouts. They weren't really watching anything and they hadn't noticed him just 15 feet above them.

Oculus watched the three people curiously. Who were they?

The one who was pacing had long light brown hair that hung down over a quarter of her back. The woman on the A/C unit had hair that fell just a little longer. Her face was pointed towards. Oculus looked over to the man lying on the ledge. His hair was a little long, probably cut just above his neckline, but it was far from shaggy. Oculus couldn't help but think his face was vaguely familiar.

Suddenly, the first girl turned around so that she was squarely facing Oculus' direction. Scott's eyes widened in shock when he saw the white stripe in her hair. He looked again at the man lying on the roof's ledge again. Now he realized how he knew that face! Finally, his gaze darted to the woman sitting on the air conditioner. He still couldn't see her face, but suddenly he realized that her hair had a semi-dark red color!

Oculus slowly sat down on the roof he was crouched on. The X-Men?! What were the X-Men doing here?! And why were they standing around on that roof.

"They found me!" he whispered to himself. "They found me!" Scott's thoughts began racing. No, they couldn't have found him. It wasn't possible. He had set up superb mental barriers years ago. Not even Cerebro could pinpoint his location. "But they're here!" They must have come for Oculus. "But why?" To recruit him, maybe? Scott peeked over the ledge again. They were still there. He had to do something. Finally he decided he'd have to go down there and talk to them. He took a deep breath and jumped over the ledge quickly. He landed in a crouch and stood back up as fast as possible with his back to the brick wall of the building he had just come from. He knew he was completely hidden in the shadows now.

==========

Kurt jumped up when he heard the sound of a man landing on the roof 10 feet behind him. Rogue was already staring into the shadows cautiously. Slowly, Jean roused herself from her telepathic scan to see what was going on.

As the three of them looked into the shadows, all they could make out was a thin line of crimson staring back at them.

"Who are you?" asked the deep voice of Oculus.

Jean and Kurt stood up and stepped to Rogue's sides. "We're the X-Men," said Rogue. "My name's Rogue and this is Nightcrawler and Jean. I assume you're Oculus?"

"In the flesh. Who are the X-Men?"

"Ve're a team of mutants fighting for the good of mutantkind," said Kurt.

"So what brings you to Memphis?"

The three noted to themselves that he hadn't flinched about the mutant thing. They must have been right. He was a mutant.

"You," said Jean. "We were wondering if you'd be interested in joining us."

"Why?"

"Because you're obviously someone who has a desire to help people. That's why you do what you do every night. Well that's why we're here, to help people." Jean tried to read the shadowed man's mind, but found herself unable to get through his powerful barriers.

"How'd you find me?"

"We heard about you in the newspaper," said Jean. "We came to town this morning and heard that this roof was on your nightly rounds."

"Thanks for the offer, but I'm fine where I am."

"At least hear us out," said Kurt. "We just want to talk to you about this. Do you have time to talk?"

==========

Scott was glad his old friends couldn't see his face. If they could, they'd certainly recognize him instantly, especially with the visor that closely resembled the one he'd used as an X-Man so many years before. His eyes rested on Jean's face as he contemplated Kurt's question. It had been an awfully slow night. Maybe he could spare just a little time to talk to them.

==========

"Cornerstone Heights apartments, apartment 1413. Be there at midnight. I'll make time."

The X-Men nodded. "We'll be there," said Rogue.

Suddenly, Oculus ran for the edge of the building and jumped off quickly. He used his grapple to swing back the direction he had come from and land a few buildings away.

The X-Men were left standing on the roof, slightly confused by the sudden departure. They watched him swing away until he was out of sight.

"Y'know, I thought he'd never shut up!" said Rogue dryly.

"I know what you mean," said Jean, "but he did agree to talk to us. We'll see how it goes."

"What time is it?" asked Kurt.

Rogue checked her watch. "10:30."

==========

Scott still wore his Oculus bodysuit, gloves, and boots, but he had taken off his visor and head cover. Instead he had his red shades on and no hat. The X-Men were in Memphis. He knew there was nothing he could do to hide his identity from them if they were already in town. He had decided that the easiest thing to do would be to just tell them who he was.

Suddenly, he heard a knock on his door. Scott looked at the closed door nervously. He could just ignore it. Don't answer it and just let them assume Oculus gave them some random address to throw them off the trail. It could work. Scott sighed. No, it was now or never.

==========

It seemed to be taking a while for Oculus to get to the door. Kurt glanced around at his teammates and raised his hand to knock again. Suddenly the door cracked open slightly. The X-Men exchanged one last look and Kurt pushed the door open. Inside was a normal apartment. There was a man standing in the middle of the room with his back to them wearing a black costume. He wasn't wearing any sort of head covering. Kurt, Rogue, and Jean all found that strange since they knew he had been wearing a black piece of material on his head when he had swung off. Jean closed the door once they were all inside.

"Have you considered our offer?" asked Kurt.

They watched and heard Oculus sigh heavily. Slowly, the figure turned around to face them.

"Oh my God!" exclaimed Rogue.

"Scott?!" cried Jean and Kurt together.

Scott stood in the center of the room feeling very uncomfortable. "Hey guys."

==========

The next thirty to forty-five minutes were spent catching Kurt, Jean, and Rogue up on Scott's life over the last 8 and a half years. Scott told them about his world travels as well as his training. He explained how he had set up strong mental barriers so Cerebro couldn't find him. He explained that he had spent 8 years training to become Oculus before finally arriving in Memphis about 9 months ago. He explained life as Oculus and told them about Nate, Sonance, Wicks, and Driscoll. When Jean asked him about his little meeting with Driscoll, Scott explained his suspicions that Driscoll was in fact Sonance.

Then Scott began asking about the X-Men. They explained that the X-Men now numbered 24 rather than nine and that the group was very active in fighting for mutant equality. They financially backed lobbyists to work on the government end of the spectrum, while the X-Men worked in a much more secret fashion. Though the government was aware of their presence, the X-Men continued to operate in secret, meaning the government was unaware of the groups' actions and was powerless to stop them. Mostly, they fought against rogue mutants whose tirades threatened to harm public opinion on mutantkind. They had also managed to save the world once or twice, specifically in a fight with a powerful mutant named Apocalypse.

"So," said Rogue once everyone was caught up on everyone else's lives, "have you thought about the offer we made earlier?"

Scott, who had been smiling and laughing for the last hour with his old friends, suddenly grew very quiet. He stood up and walked over to the window overlooking the city. "I've got responsibilities," he said, motioning to the costume on his body. "I can't leave this city now. Remember that madman I told you about, Sonance? Well he's still loose out there. How can you ask me to leave right now?"

There was a moment of silence as the X-Men watched Scott standing at the window.

"But when you defeat Sonance?" asked Kurt.

"Someone new will show up," said Scott. "I can't leave."

Jean stood now and walked over to the window beside Scott. Scott turned to face her. He looked deep into her eyes through his shades. He had once loved this girl more than anything else in the world. Jean put her arms around Scott's neck and quietly hugged him close. Scott wrapped his own arms around her torso and pulled her body close to his own. He closed his eyes so he couldn't see out the window. It occurred to him that there was no "used to" in the equation. He still loved Jean to this day.

"You're sure?" asked Jean, not letting go of Scott.

Scott gathered up all his strength. He opened his eyes again and looked out on the skyline of Memphis. He put his arms gently on Jean's sides and pulled her away from him so he could look into her eyes again.

"I'm sure."

Jean nodded her head and turned away to walk back towards the middle of the room. For a quick second, Scott thought he saw a tear glide down her cheek.

He turned back to Rogue and Kurt now. "I'm sorry guys. But I've made a promise to protect this city. At this point, my word is about all I've got left. I'm not letting it go."

Rogue nodded her understanding, stepped close to Scott, and gave him a quick hug. Scott was careful not to make contact with her exposed face as he embraced her. Then Kurt walked up and extended his hand to Scott.

"We'll see you around," he said quietly.

Scott shook Kurt's hand firmly. "Maybe so. We'll see."

Kurt ended the handshake quickly. "God bless."

Jean walked to the door and opened it slowly. Kurt left the room first, followed by Rogue. Jean looked back at Scott one last time before following.

"You're welcome at the mansion any time," she said. "The past is in the past, Scott. The invitation to come back will always stand."

Scott nodded. "Goodbye Jean."

Jean's face tilted to the ground a little as she left the apartment and shut the door behind her.

Scott sat down on his couch and laid his head back on the cushion.

Gently, tears began forming in his eyes.

==========

"Scott? Hey Scott. Wake up!"

Scott awoke groggily on his couch. Sunlight peered through his open window. He looked up and found Nate standing over him.

"You know its probably a bad sign when you start wearing that costume to bed," said Nate with a smile.

Scott groaned. "It was a rough night and I didn't mean to go to sleep here. Now why are you here?"

"I meant to talk to you last night but you were already gone by the time I got home."

Scott stood up and stretched, then began moving towards the kitchen to start making some coffee.

"The point, Nate. What's the point?"

"I've got a patient who asked to see you yesterday."

Scott turned to look at Nate with tired, yet wide eyes. "A patient asked _you_ if they could talk to _me_?"

"That's right," said Nate.

"How could he have known that you know me?"

"He said he figured that you're probably a mutant and that you would probably need a good doctor that you could trust. He knows I'm a mutant and that I'm a cheap doctor, so he just put it together that it would make sense for you to come to me when you got injured."

"Well what'd you say?"

"That I didn't know you."

"And he said?"

"He just smiled and told me to pass along the message. He wants to talk to you."

Scott sighed. "Is it worth my time?"

"Who knows? I doubt it'll take ten minutes though. The guy doesn't talk much, not that I blame him for that. He's got cancer. It started in his lungs but spread into his throat. It's gotta be pretty painful just to grunt, much less form words and have a conversation. He's pretty close to death and he knows it."

Scott sat down at his table and looked up at Nate. "Fine. What's his name?"

"Ed Baker."


	17. One Last Meeting

**A/N:** I'm back!!! Finally, after nearly two months, I have returned with a new chapter! I'm really very sorry for the wait. Like I've said, I just got so busy that I didn't have time to work on this for a while. And to be honest, I don't know when the next chapter will be up. It won't be near as long as it took for this one, but I'm pretty sure it's a safe bet that the "new chapter each week" thing is over. I just don't have that kind of time right now. My best suggestion is to put me on your author alert list so you'll get an email every time I update. But I know that right now you're all more interested in the story than my excuses, so I'll let you get to it. ON WITH THE STORY!

* * *

Scott couldn't keep his thoughts from stampeding through his mind as he moved across the rooftops of Memphis. It was just after 8:00 pm, a mere 12 hours since Nate had asked him to meet with Ed Baker, or as Scott remembered him, Detective Ed Baker, the man who put him in jail back during a different life. 

Scott remembered Baker vividly. He had been an intimidating man, large and gruff, but he had also seemed like a good man. Scott had thought at the time that Baker was the sort of man who would always make sure he had the right guy for a crime before he sent him to trial. But that's not to say Scott hadn't been scared of Baker at the time. He had been terrified of him, actually. But he always felt he could trust Baker to do the right thing.

And yet, Scott was completely aware of what Baker had occupied his time with for the last eight and a half years. After Scott ran away from Blackwall Detention Center, he had kept a close watch on the Bayville police force to make sure they never got too close to finding him. Though none of the police ever actually saw Scott after he left the prison that night, he had certainly seen them, and he had watched Baker closest. Det. Baker had taken it as his personal goal to find Scott Summers and bring him to justice. He had interviewed every member of the X-Men gruelingly. In fact, Scott happened to know that there were many times the X-Men feared Baker would uncover their secret. He had always been only one or two clues away from knowing everything, but somehow Xavier prevented it. Baker talked to more than just Scott's former teammates though. He had talked to Scott's teachers, classmates, mentors, acquaintances, and even doctors. He dug through Scott's history and found people Scott had long forgotten. Eventually, Baker was fired from the force. His superiors claimed he had let the Summers case get too personal to the point that it had become an obsession. His wife agreed and left him not long after his removal from the BPD. But still, Baker had pursued Scott's history in hopes for clues of finding his present location. He actually traveled to Juneau, Alaska, Scott's childhood home, in hopes of finding some sort of clue.

Scott was never really all that worried about Baker. He knew that his history would never lead the man to his present identity. Scott had traveled the globe throughout all this time and was now in Memphis, a city that had no ties to his childhood at all. So when Baker had completely disappeared from Scott's radar about three years ago, he hadn't worried about it. He just assumed that the man had finally given up. And yet, now he was in Memphis, Scott's city, and it had Scott worried. Had he been found? Had Baker finally caught up with him? Maybe he had finally realized that Scott had been watching him and so he intentionally disappeared so that he could search without Scott following his tracks. Frankly, Scott had no idea how he had been followed to Memphis, but Baker had done it somehow! And, perhaps foolishly, Scott was now racing across the rooftops of Memphis towards the man who had hunted him for years.

Scott soon found himself standing on the roof of a small apartment complex right next door to Nate's clinic. Two stories below him was Ed Baker. Scott crouched down for a moment and took a deep breath. Was he actually planning on going through with this? Why go to Baker? It could only lead to trouble. Who in their right mind would walk into a trap so willingly? Scott glanced around at the area and wondered aloud what he was doing there. Finally he stood up and prepared himself to go inside. Of course he was going to go through with this. Baker was an old man by this point and Scott was an incredibly agile and athletic specimen. If it was a trap, Baker would never be able to catch Oculus.

But the sound of a police siren moving towards him made Scott crouch right back down again. He peeked over the edge of the roof and watched one squad car pull into the apartment complex's parking lot. The siren cut off and two policemen climbed out of the car. As they walked towards an apartment two doors down from the one Nate had mentioned, Scott listened to their conversation.

"So is this the third or fourth time this week that this old lady's called us out here?" asked the driver.

His partner sighed and tried to remember. "I think it's the third," he said slowly. "What do ya think it'll be this time? A rapist? Murderer? Serial killer?"

The driver chuckled. "Judging from the last few times, I'm guessin' none of the above. Just another hallucination."

"Well, I'm just glad we were already busy when that last call came in."

"Yeah, another Sonance slaying. Those crime scenes are just too hard to work. They're creepy."

"I know what ya mean. He's picking up, too. This is the third attempt in the last few weeks."

"Yeah, but this time the news is gonna go national I bet. I mean, up until now all the victims have been Memphis folks. But this guy was an actor who toured the country. He was in town with that _Les Miserables_ group."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I recognized the name. He played…oh, which part did he play?"

Finally, they reached the door and knocked on it. The one man was still rubbing his chin to remember what part Sonance's victim had played.

"Marius! That was it!" he said finally just a split-second before the old woman in the apartment opened the door.

Oculus stopped listening once they began talking to the woman. He reached down to his belt, pulled out his grappling hook, and fired it at a nearby building. Baker would have to wait. The Sonance case had just broken wide open!

----------

By the time Oculus reached Robert Wicks' office, it was empty. He started to shatter the window and enter anyway, but decided against it. If Wicks wasn't here, then Oculus knew of one other place to try.

It only took about five minutes for Oculus to make it from Wicks' office to Sonance's warehouse by the river. On a normal night it might have taken just over ten minutes, but Oculus was especially angry tonight.

When he arrived at the warehouse, he didn't bother with sneaking in. He knew he was expected anyway. So instead Oculus simply dove through a window near the top of the building and landed on the rail that he had watched from the last time he was here. The window shattered loudly as Oculus fell through and rolled to a stop on his feet. He immediately jumped off the rail and landed perfectly on the ground below. It was only at this time that he was able to take a good look at what surrounded him.

On the floor of the warehouse were about 30 men, all holding some sort of weapon in their hands and glaring at Oculus. Only about 15 feet from where Oculus stood were Lout and Prism, Sonance's right-hand men.

"Welcome to the party," said Lout in his gravelly voice. "We were startin' to think ya weren't coming."

Oculus' eyes traveled around the room slowly, gauging the situation. "What kind of party doesn't have someone around to make sure everyone has fun?" retorted Oculus. Finally his eyes fell on Lout. "Now that I'm here, I think we're gonna have loads of fun."

Prism chuckled to himself. "Do you even know why you're here?" he asked.

"To stop you," Oculus said simply. "And to find Wicks, of course." Oculus tilted his head up as he began yelling at the darkness of the warehouse's corners. "Where are you Robert? I know you're here! Come on out!"

There was a pause and then all the thugs in the room began laughing a little. Finally, Oculus heard a voice that seemed to echo from all around him. It was a deep voice, unfamiliar and eerie. It literally seemed to come at him from every angle. It was as if the building itself were speaking.

"So you think you've finally figured it all out? You think you finally know everything there is to know, right? Well let me explain something to you."

The figure of a man began to emerge from the darkness just to Oculus' right. Oculus turned to face the advancing man with his fists clenched and ready. He could see the man's legs first, then his torso as the darkness slipped away little by little from his body. He was wearing a black suit with a white shirt underneath and no tie. Finally, the man's head emerged and Oculus found himself facing a smirking and obviously satisfied Robert Wicks.

"You don't even know where to start to explain all of this," said Sonance, finishing his little speech.

"I know enough," said Oculus.

"That," said Wicks slowly, "I highly doubt." Then he turned to face his men. Oculus could see Sonance's mouth moving, but couldn't hear a word of what he was saying. But the other men in the room obviously could. They seemed to hang on every word Wicks said, or didn't say, or whatever he was doing. Finally, Wicks turned back to Oculus with a smile. "I'd get ready for a fight if I were you."

Suddenly Oculus heard a primal scream from Lout and turned just in time to see all 30 of Sonance's men except Prism and Lout come running towards him with all sorts of weapons ranging from 2x4's to guns.

Oculus crouched low to the ground for a moment, then sprang into the air just as the first of the men reached him. He delivered two swift kicks to the heads of those first two thugs, then landed back on the ground just in time to perform a low sweeping kick that knocked 3 more thugs off their feet. Seconds later, Oculus was completely encircled by the crowd of men. He fought wildly, his anger at the whole situation growing by the second. He had trusted Wicks completely. He had sought the man's council and heeded his advice. Deep down he'd always known that so much trust could only lead to disaster, but he had been comforted by the knowledge that Wicks was a trustworthy man and an excellent citizen of Memphis. Now the knowledge that Wicks was in fact Sonance was driving Oculus into a frenzy as he kicked, punched, and just viciously attacked the crowd of men surrounding him.

Oculus threw punch after punch and kick after kick, each blow knocking men to the ground where they either crawled away only to get back up and try to work their way back to the middle or were crushed by the fury of motion around them. But as each thug fell, another stepped in to take his place. Oculus was soon ducking and dodging everywhere to avoid taking a hit from a wooden plank or a metal pipe.

He delivered a high kick to one man's chin and saw the man fly into the air and land about five feet away. When the man hit the floor, Oculus could actually hear bones crack from the impact with the concrete ground. But what he paid more attention to was that no one took the man's spot in the circle around him. He realized that he was actually holding his own against this onslaught and was now down to fighting just the few that remained. This knowledge gave Oculus all the motivation he needed as he grabbed another man's fist, blocking a punch, and then tossed the man into a group of three others. He turned around and found that there were only four men left. Oculus jumped into the air and kicked one in the head, sending him to the ground easily. Then he put his knee into another man's stomach and punched the side of the man's head, sending him reeling into a nearby wall.

Only two men were left now. There was a pause in the fight as all three combatants realized this. The two thugs smiled at one another and Oculus charged at them with a yell. As he rushed towards them, one of the men pulled a pistol from behind his back and fired it at Oculus. The bullet grazed his shoulder and Oculus dove at the man with the gun, spearing him to the ground. From his position on the floor, Oculus kicked the other man to the ground and lunged on top of him, delivering punch after punch to the man's face until he the thug passed out.

"Impressive," said Wicks as Oculus finally stood up. "I really wondered if you'd be able to handle all of them at once, but I figured it'd be fun to watch you try."

"Obviously you've underestimated me a lot lately," said Oculus angrily. "Did you really think I wouldn't hear about that actor being killed when you complained about him right in front of me?"

Wicks smiled. "Why do you think I even mentioned him in the first place?"

Oculus froze as more and more of the story began to click into place. His meetings with Wicks, the accusations of Driscoll, even this encounter in the warehouse had all been carefully constructed by Sonance himself. And to make matters worse, Oculus had thought he was catching up to Sonance the whole time!

"I believe you've met Lout and Prism," said Wicks with a smile. "I have to admit that I've been looking forward to seeing how you plan on defeating them. But tell me, have you figured out their powers yet?"

Oculus turned his attention to the two mutant henchmen. They were both grinning wide smiles as they prepared to fight. Oculus could tell they were strong and had a good hunch that Lout's power was simply superstrength. It would be a challenge, but Oculus wasn't worried about taking him down. Prism, on the other hand, was a mystery to Oculus. The man seemed to be made of glass, but Oculus was smart enough to know that there had to be more to his mutation than just physical appearances.

Wicks smirked. "I guess that's a 'no.' Well let me enlighten you. Lout, as you've probably guessed, has superhuman strength. I've actually seen him destroy a man with one well-placed punch. Prism's powers are a little more colorful though. He's nearly as strong as Lout here, but he also has an uncanny ability to transmit and refract light through his body. It's quite interesting, really. I think you'll like it when you see it."

"I don't care what he can do," said Oculus in a growl. In truth, he was glad to know exactly what he was in for, but intimidation was always key.

"I'm sure you don't," said Wicks with a smile as he motioned towards Oculus.

Lout and Prism started moving towards Scott with smiles on their faces. Oculus decided to wait and let them attack first. He needed to gauge how strong they actually were before charging at them.

Prism struck first with a downward punch from his right fist. Oculus put two hands up to block the punch. He grabbed Prism's hand and jumped simultaneously into the air using Prism's arm for leverage. Once high enough, Oculus kicked the man in the face, forcing Prism back a few feet.

As soon as Oculus landed back on the ground in a crouch, Lout swung at him with a punch of his own. Oculus was ready though and sprang out of the way just in time, causing Lout's massive fist to slam into the ground and crack the concrete floor. Oculus spun around quickly and delivered a punch to Lout's jaw that knocked the man off his feet about half a foot before he fell back to the ground.

Suddenly, Prism's fist slammed down directly onto Oculus' spine, causing his head to fly back as his body fell to the ground. When his head followed suit, Oculus' jaw smacked against the concrete floor loudly and his head actually bounced back up an inch or two. By the time his head hit the ground again, Oculus was completely unconscious.

----------

Oculus' eyes opened groggily as he slowly rolled his head up to look around. His neck was sore, his head was thumping in pain, and his back was killing him, but other than that he felt all right. He was still in the warehouse, but he was standing up now. Finally, he realized that he had been strapped to the wall. Prism was in a chair about five feet in front of him. The glass man sneered when Oculus looked at him.

"He's up, boss."

Sonance answered promptly and soon arrived back in the main section of the warehouse. "Welcome back," he said with a grin. "I hope you aren't too banged up."

"Never felt better," said Oculus as he tried his best to suppress his raging headache.

"Good to hear. I suppose you're wondering why I haven't finished you off yet." Sonance began slowly walking towards Scott. He seemed calm and confident. It was clear he was completely in control of the situation.

"Not really," said Oculus.

"Let me explain it to you." Wicks leaned in close to Oculus' face. "You may not know it, but you and I have some history to sort out."

"Such as?"

Wicks leaned back with a smile and took a couple steps away from his prisoner. "Y'know, I knew you'd be trouble from the first day you showed up around here. I was careful to follow all of your movements. I had some of my men track you around the city for months. You even had a confrontation with one of them one night. I'm sure you remember it. He stabbed you in the leg."

Wicks stopped, hoping for a response, but Oculus didn't offer one. He shrugged slightly and went on with his story.

"The truth is I knew quite a bit about you before you ever started digging up dirt on me. A couple of my men witnessed your conversation with Perry Huber in the prison. That was when I knew you were just beginning to get fairly close to me. So I decided the easiest way to keep tabs on you would be to talk to you one-on-one. Incidentally, kudos to you for being so skeptical about Driscoll as Sonance. I don't think you ever fully believed that was the case. You do have some skills. It's really too bad you can't stick around any longer."

"I may be around longer than you think."

Wicks laughed. "I doubt it. I know far too much about you. Even if you did pull out a miracle escape, I could find you anywhere. Most superheroes try to keep their identities a little more secret, Mr. Fletcher."

Scott froze. Sonance knew who he was! Scott quickly pieced the information together and realized that Sonance's men must have seen him return home through his apartment window at some point.

"Actually, I don't think it's appropriate to call you Mr. Fletcher," said Wicks. "After all, we're having such an honest conversation with one another tonight. Why not be completely honest? I think the name Scott Summers will work just fine."

If Scott had been shocked to hear the name Fletcher come from Wicks' lips, then the name Summers absolutely terrified him.

"How do you know that name?" asked Scott after a brief moment of amazement.

"Oh come on. The whole country knows that name, Scott."

"But the whole country doesn't know where Scott Summers is."

"No, but only because the public has an average I.Q. of 5. Truth be told, I've known who you are since the first time you came into my office and I got to see you face to face. You've changed some since your mug shots were taken, but you still look basically the same."

"So what is this about then? Some sort of revenge for being the first mutant to go public?"

"Tell me, Scott," said Wicks, ignoring the question. "What do you know of my family?"

Scott was taken aback at first, but soon answered with what he had been told by Nate and what he had found on his own. "They were a rich family in Mississippi who made their money off of war profiteering in World Wars I and II. You denounced your family as a teenager and made it through life on your own without any help from them. You even refused to accept the inheritance when your father died. At least, that's the story. I highly doubt a word of it is true."

"Actually," said Wicks, "a lot of that was quite accurate. My family did make their money off war profiteering. But I certainly didn't denounce my family or my inheritance. I was disowned and written out of the will when they discovered I was a mutant, not that they got away with it. I returned home years later and personally killed them all."

"So where do I come into this?" asked Scott to cut to the chase. He wasn't particularly interested in the grit of the Wicks family history.

"You," sneered Wicks, "made mutants public. Do you have any idea how hard it was to keep this secret after you came along? I don't know how many people I had to kill to keep the truth about me from becoming public. Thanks to you, mutants are persecuted on a daily basis around the world, and we hate you for it. The whole mutant community despises you. I dare say there's not a mutant in this country that hasn't had the desire to wring the breath from your throat."

Scott tried not to show any sort of outward response to Wicks' rant, but he knew every word of it was true.

"When I got into the crime business a little over a year ago," continued Wicks, "it was just for the thrill of it. I was bored with life in general and wanted to feel strong again. I remembered the night that I killed my family and decided that was where my new power would come from. But I had no idea that it'd eventually lead me to you. Now I'm gonna do what every mutant who's been pushed to the ground in the last nine years has wanted to do. I'm going to see you suffer and die tonight in this warehouse. And I can promise you that I'm going to enjoy it immensely."

Just then, Lout came back into the room and joined Prism about ten feet behind Wicks. Scott knew that if he was going to pull a miracle out of his hat, now was the time. Slowly and as inconspicuously as possible, he began stretching his right hand down his thigh. His fingers could just barely trace the belt on his right leg.

Wicks leaned in close to Scott's face. Scott stared right back into his eyes in an effort not to look guilty.

"Anything more you'd like to add before your torture starts?" asked Sonance.

"Bring it on," said Scott with an arrogant smirk.

Wicks frowned and turned away with a huff. As he walked away from Scott, the two large thugs began moving towards their prisoner with smiles on their faces.

Finally, Scott managed to slide a finger into the small pocket on his belt. He could almost reach it.

"One more thing," said Wicks with his back to Scott. "My power, if you're wondering, is the ability to control sound waves. You should know that I have every intention of making sure your screams echo through this room. But don't worry about anyone bothering us. No one outside of the warehouse will ever hear a thing."

"We'll see about that," said Scott. He finally pushed the button on the small device inside his leg belt. Immediately, his visor opened up and let a pure blast of raw red energy fire out of his eyes. Lout, who was standing just half a foot away from Scott, was hit at head level and thrown across the room like a rag doll. He was dead before he hit the ground 80 feet away.

Prism, however, posed an interesting problem to Scott's attack. When the beam hit him, he was knocked back by it but he was quickly able to refract the beam through his body and direct it across the room, thus saving both himself and Wicks.

Scott quickly realized he'd have to try something else. He moved his head so that the beam pointed at the ground, allowing the edge of the beam to cut away the bonds holding Scott to the wall. Once free, he hit the small button again and his visor returned to its place over his eyes.

"In all the talk about everyone's powers, I can't believe you forgot about mine, Wicks," said Scott once his feet were back on the ground again.

Wicks sneered as his hand gripped his right arm, which had been injured by the initial blast. He hadn't forgotten about Scott's powers, but simply hadn't been aware of Scott's remote trigger. Without a word, he pulled a gun from underneath his jacket and pointed it at Scott.

Scott dove to his left just in time to avoid the first shot. He rolled to his feet and immediately leapt again to avoid the second as well. When he returned to the ground, he fired a quick blast from his eyes that knocked the gun out of Wicks' hands.

With that danger taken care of, at least for the time being, Scott turned his attention back to Prism, who just happened to be running directly towards Scott at full speed. Scott fired a blast at him, but it passed straight through his body. As Prism grew closer, Scott clenched his fists and bent his knees to prepare to jump over the glass mutant.

Prism saw what was happening and raised his hands to get ready to catch Scott's body in the air. But when he got within two feet of his target, Scott suddenly ducked to the ground. Prism wasn't prepared for this and ended up stumbling over Scott's body and falling into the wall. Scott turned and shot a blast into the wall above Prism, causing the bricks to crumble and bury the thug in mortar.

Now Scott looked back to Wicks, who was reaching down to pick his gun up off the floor. Just as he grabbed and pointed the weapon again, Scott shot another blast at the gun and knocked it from Wicks' hands once more.

"No weapons, Wicks," he said angrily. "We're the only ones left here. Let's take care of this the old-fashioned way."

Wicks stood up and turned to face Scott. They were about twenty feet apart from one another. "Sorry," he said. "But the old-fashioned way included weapons."

As Scott reached for his temple, Wicks opened his mouth and began screaming. The noise was immediately so loud that it echoed through Scott's head so much that he couldn't focus on anything but the noise. The hand that had been moving for the visor switch on his temple instead found its way to Scott's ear in an effort to block out the noise. Slowly, he began to make out a voice just underneath the scream. It was Wicks' voice talking slowly and deliberately to him.

"This could have been easy on you, Summers. But because you made it difficult, I won't stop with you. I'm going after your doctor friend next. And then I'll hunt down the X-Men. I believe they're friends of yours. I'll find everyone you've ever known and kill them. But don't worry. I'll gladly send them your regards before they die."

Scott looked up. Wicks was right above him with the gun to his head. There was a huge grin plastered on the man's face. With the scream still bouncing across Scott's head, he reached up and pushed Wicks' arm away just as Wicks pulled the trigger, sending the bullet just over Scott's shoulder. He kept his grip on Wicks arm as he stood up, then with his free hand delivered a punch right into Wicks' stomach. As Wicks bent over from having the air knocked out of him, Scott brought his fist upwards into the man's face, knocking his head back again so he was looking up at Scott with a bloody nose. The scream finally stopped echoing through Scott's ears as he whirled around and threw Wicks across the room where he skidded to a stop on the concrete floor.

Wicks slowly sat up and glanced towards the pile of rubble that housed Prism. He knew that if Prism were alive, he'd be out of that rubble by now. He also knew that he couldn't defeat Scott on his own. And then there was one more piece of information he was aware of. The gun he had been using was dropped by one of his thugs when the group of them attacked Oculus. He had been keeping a careful count of how many bullets he had fired from the small gun.

"So this is it," he said almost to himself. He picked the gun up and placed it against his own head. He grinned a bloody smile at Scott. "Yet another death on your conscience."

Scott quickly pulled his hand to the switch on his temple to fire a quick shot that would knock the gun from Wicks' hands again. But this time Wicks was expecting it. He leaned to his right just in time for Scott's blast to slam into his face. Wicks' upper body instantly fell to the ground as the force of the blast knocked him a few feet across the floor. Horrified, Scott ran to the body as fast as he could. When he got there, he saw all he needed to see. The right half of Wicks' face was gone, replaced by a dark hole in his head. The other half was still easily recognizable as Robert Wicks, District Attorney for Shelby County. Scott picked up the gun from the floor and looked at it. A sinking feeling washed over him. He held the gun out from his body and pointed it across the room.

Click.

No bullets left. Scott dropped the gun and began moving for the front door of the warehouse. When he opened the door, he found the building surrounded by Memphis Police.

"Freeze!" shouted the voice of Commissioner Driscoll over a loudspeaker. "We've got you surrounded, Oculus. Put your hands above your head and come peacefully."

Scott raised his hands into the air as commanded, then fired his grappling hook from his right hand and let himself be pulled into the air and away from the scene of the crime. Wicks must have sent in an anonymous tip to the police while Scott was unconscious. Scott thought about the grisly scene that awaited the police once they entered the warehouse. For the first time, he realized that Oculus would never be accepted by the city of Memphis.

Scott stopped and sat down on the roof of the building he was now on. He spent a couple minutes trying to figure out how all this had happened. How could he have let things get so bad? He unbuckled the belt that traveled over his chest and held it in his hand. He turned it so that he could see the small Oculus emblem on the front of the belt and let out a long sigh. Oculus hadn't been near as successful as he'd hoped. Memphis hated him and now he had killed three men in one night. He dropped the belt to the floor and stood up to go. He still intended to talk to Ed Baker before the night was over. As he walked to the edge of the building and reached for his grappling hook, a realization hit him. In a roundabout way, Sonance had actually been successful. As of this night, Oculus was dead.


	18. Scott Fletcher: Murderer?

**A/N:** Hey everyone! Again, sorry for the long wait between chapters. I'll try to do better in the future. Hopefully I'm making up for the long waits by offering really great chapters. Personally, I can say I've been very pleased by the last few chapters and am quite proud of them. I hope you like them as well. I should mention that this chapter takes place about 3 days after the X-Men's visit to Memphis, and it picks up right where the last chapter left off. Enjoy!

* * *

A muffled noise that sounded like moving air could be faintly heard as a thin line suddenly shot across the night sky in Memphis. The line traveled quickly until finally latching on to the side of a tall building in the downtown district. Soon after, a dark figure began flying across the sky following the same path as the thin line before. If anyone had seen the sight, they would have been completely confused. But it was 3:00 in the morning, still an hour and a half before the first citizens of Memphis would hit the streets, and no one was there to see Scott tuck his grappling hook back into his belt and begin running across the rooftops of Memphis.

He was just Scott now. Oculus was gone. Scott Fletcher was gone. Scott Summers had disappeared years before. And yet, Scott was aware that Scott Summers might soon reemerge. He was on his way to talk to a man named Ed Baker, who put Scott in jail for murder almost a decade before. Now a patient of Nate's, Baker had asked to speak to Oculus. Scott knew it had to be a trap. Baker had trailed him for years as Scott tried to start a new life. He was certain that Baker had finally caught up with him and was waiting for him to arrive in Baker's small apartment so he could be arrested and taken back to jail. Scott knew what was about to happen, but he didn't care. He was a failure. As Scott Summers, he had been a high school loser who now belonged in jail for murder. So he fled that life and formed a new one as Scott Fletcher and Oculus. In this life he had failed to cleanse the city he'd sworn to protect from the countless number of scum that lived in the city's dark alleys. He had killed men and seriously hurt others. Scott had lived as Oculus for nearly a year now and there was not one thing he could think of that might have been good enough to call his time in Memphis a success. In fact, he couldn't think of one single life he had changed for the better.

These thoughts were heavy on Scott's mind as he arrived at Baker's apartment. As he silently slid open a window, he knew he was about to walk into a trap, and he was glad to do it. His honor was gone. It was time to stop running and face the past. Quietly, he admitted to himself that he was glad to finally be able to turn himself in. It would all be over soon.

He slid through the window without making a sound. Scott could hear snoring coming through the open door into the bedroom. Baker was asleep. Scott walked into the room and stood over the man's bed. He was smaller than Scott remembered him being. He'd lost quite a bit of weight. It could have been the moonlight, but his skin looked pale, sickly even. It was then that Scott noticed the IV stand next to the bed. He followed the plastic tube from the drip bag and found that it led to Baker's left arm. Suddenly, Scott truly realized for the first time exactly what Nate had said to him, that Baker had cancer. Scott had assumed it was a story to draw Scott in to the trap, but maybe it had been true! Scott decided to wait for Baker to wake up and stepped back into the corner of the room. As he did so, he accidentally stepped on a creaky floorboard. He saw Baker's eyes slowly drift open.

"Someone there?" asked the old man.

Scott took a deep breath and stepped back into the moonlight. "Hello, Detective Baker. I was told you wanted to see me."

A look of confusion fell over Baker's face as he sat up in his bed. "I haven't been Detective Baker in years. How did you…" He shook his head with a smile. "Heh. I guess that just proves that you really are the man I need to talk to." His voice was gravelly and sounded weak.

Scott was still wearing his Oculus outfit, minus the chest belt. If Baker knew who he was, he didn't show it. Scott began putting this information together with Nate's words and the IV bag. All of a sudden, it was clear that Baker wasn't here looking for Scott Summers and he certainly had no idea that he was, in fact, talking to Scott Summers! So if this wasn't a trap, what was it?

"What did you want to see me about, Detective?"

"I've been followin' you," said Baker, his finger pointing at Scott. "You seem like a good detective. Newspapers keep sayin' how you're crackin' open cases that the police had nearly given up on, unofficially of course. I'm impressed. By the way, you figure out who that Sonance nut is yet?"

Scott sighed and began moving towards the bedroom door. "Is this what you wanted to talk about? Because I've got…"

"No, I'm not here to waste your time," said Baker, his hand raised towards Scott.

Scott turned back around. "Then what is it you want?"

Baker took a deep breath, which was immediately followed by a hacking cough that lasted nearly a full two minutes.

"You smoke?" he asked after he regained control of his voice.

"No."

"Well don't start."

There was a short moment as the two men just looked at each other. Finally, Baker began talking again.

"Y'know, us old-timers don't like change. Always been that way, I guess. My grandfather never did buy a car. Said his horses could get him anywhere he ever needed to go just fine. But the world changes whether we like it or not. It's changin' again right now in a big way. Guys like me, we don't like it, but we gotta deal with it.

"As I guess you already know, I used to be a cop. A detective, really, up in New York. An' I loved it, too. I didn't do a lot o' good in my life, but I can honestly say I helped people with my job. It's the one thing I'm most proud of. I was on the force for over twenty-five years, an' there was only one case I never closed. But guys like me are 'bout outdated nowadays. The world's changin' and the job I used to do is a lot different now. An' it's all thanks to guys like you."

"Like me?" asked Scott in surprise.

"Yeah, like you. Guys that put on those outfits and do real detective work. Y'know, up in New York they got at least two guys like you. Call themselves Spiderman an' Daredevil. I even heard somethin' the other day 'bout some guy called Iron Man. An' ya used to hear 'bout another one called Angel, though he's 'bout disappeared now I guess. Point is, this world belongs to guys like you now. Never thought I'd see the day when detectives were replaced by guys in colorful costumes, but it's happenin'! An' frankly, it needs to happen. You're what this new world needs. Let's face it, the police don't know how to handle those crazies like Sonance anymore. For better or worse, they let you handle those guys now.

"I gotta admit, I didn't like it when you an' those guys in New York hit the scene. Catchin' the bad guys was always my job. But I realize now that you're better at it than I ever was. I want ya to know how much I appreciate you an' the work you do."

"Uh, thanks," said Scott. He was completely confused by the whole situation now. Where was this going?

"Now, that's all a very roundabout way for an old man to ask you for a favor," said Baker finally.

"What is it?" asked Scott.

"Like I said, there was only one case in my time on the force that I never closed. Only one that I never could figure out. Now, I'm an old man an' I don't have much time left. I guess I'll never solve this case, but its one that needs to be solved anyway. I don't think it's solvable, though, by a guy like me. It needs someone like you to work on it. Someone who can go places I can't an' find answers to questions I'd never think to ask. I'm askin' you to take this case for me."

Scott wasn't sure of what to say, afraid of where he thought this might be headed now.

"I don't know if I can…"

"Please," interrupted Baker. "This case has grated on me for years. Its gotten to where it defines my life. I need it closed, but I can't close it. There's no one I trust more with this case than someone like you."

Scott sighed. "What's the case?"

"You're a mutant, right?" asked Baker.

"That's right," said Scott.

"Then you should know it. It's almost nine years old. Murder. Victim was a kid named Duncan Matthews."

"And Scott Summers was the murderer. I know the case," said Scott.

"Yeah, that's the one. Except I don't think Summers killed that boy."

Scott's eyes opened as wide as they could go and it took every bit of Scott's restraint to keep his jaw from dropping.

"Excuse me?" he asked.

"I don't think Summers did it. I think he was framed by someone else who wanted us to think Summers killed the kid."

"What makes you think that?" asked Scott. He was completely dumbfounded by Baker's revelation.

"Honestly, I thought he was guilty at first. Even spent a few years searching for him so I could bring him to justice. I interviewed just about everyone he ever knew. Found out as much as I could about the kid in hopes of catching him one day. It was during this time that I realized he couldn't have done it. Everyone I talked to told me what a good kid Summers was. How he was bright an' honest. 'A leader among his peers,' one guy told me."

Scott immediately knew that quote had to have come from the Professor.

"But I finally decided he was innocent while I was in Alaska a few years ago finding out about his childhood. The way I see it, there are moments in all of our lives that define who we are an' who we'll be. Those moments are usually tragedies. For Summers, his moment came when he was a kid. His parents and brother died in a plane crash and left him an orphan. He lived his childhood on the streets of Juneau just survivin' from day to day. Anyway, I talked to some doctors who treated him after that plane crash. At the time he didn't have to wear the glasses he's got now. His mutation hadn't appeared yet or somethin' like that. Anyway, that doctor told me he looked in the eyes of this kid who had just watched his parent's plane fall to the ground an' blow up. The doctor said that the kid's eyes were scary. He said he spent about five minutes jus' staring into the kid's eyes, tryin' to imagine what that sort o' thing could do to ya. He said he got a glimpse into that kid's soul that day, an' I'll never forget what that doctor said to me next. He said, 'Scott Summers was forever changed that day, but not into a murderer.' Now, I don't usually go in for that sort o' stuff, but if you coulda seen this guy's face when he said it, if you coulda heard the conviction in his voice…I believed that doctor. When I put that story with all the other stuff other folks told me, I just couldn't believe that Summers would up an' kill some kid from school just 'cause he didn't like him. I don't know who killed Duncan Matthews, but it wasn't Scott Summers."

Scott felt like he needed to sit down. He knew the doctor Baker was talking about. Dr. Sloan had been incredibly kind to Scott while he was in the hospital. He had even slipped him three hundred dollars when the hospital administration forced Scott to leave, dooming him to a life on the streets.

"So you want me to find the real killer?" asked Scott.

"That's right. If you look in the top drawer of the filing cabinet over there, you'll find all the evidence I've got. It's just copies of the actual paperwork, but it's all there except for the physical evidence. Couldn't take that with me," said Baker. "An' if you happen to find Summers, tell him I'm sorry, an', if ya can, help him get his life back together. He deserves that much. I feel awful for what I did to him."

"I'll pass that on," said Scott with a smile.

Baker sighed and leaned back onto his pillow. "I just feel like I let him down. I got focused on him an' I let myself an' the system railroad him. It was wrong. I see that now."

Scott opened the filing cabinet as Baker spoke and pulled out the stack of papers the man had mentioned. He thumbed through them quickly. Nothing he didn't already know, but then Baker wasn't expecting to give them to Scott Summers himself.

It suddenly occurred to Scott that Baker had stopped talking. He turned around. The old man was asleep again. Scott smiled.

"Thank you, Detective," he whispered softly.

Baker opened his eyes slowly again.

"Sorry. Drifted off for a sec. You say somethin'?"

He looked around and realized Oculus was gone. He just smiled and laid back down to go back to sleep.

* * *

As Scott made his way back to his apartment, his mind was ringing with a variety of sounds. Echoes from the past bounced through his head in a strange collaboration of voices belonging to all sorts of people. Baker. Jean. Kurt. Nate. The 911 operator. Duncan. Ridge. Wicks. Even Scott himself! They were all in his head tugging on him in every direction.

_"…there are moments in all of our lives that define who we are an' who we'll be."_

_"I couldn't just let him hit her like that. I had to do something!"_

_"I'll be watching you, Dunc. I know what happened with you and Jean, and I'm very protective of my friends. Hurt her and you'll regret it."_

_"Yeah, that's the one. Except I don't think Summers killed that boy."_

_"Those moments are usually tragedies."_

_"Dude!__ What do you think you're doin' man? Put that thing down!"_

_"Sir?__ Sir! Somebody call homicide!"_

_"For Summers, his moment came when he was a kid."_

_"The whole mutant community despises you."_

_"…I've made a promise to protect this city. At this point, my word is about all I've got left. I'm not letting it go."_

_"Scott Summers was forever changed that day, but not into a murderer."_

_"…you're obviously someone who has a desire to help people. That's why you do what you do every night."_

_"I don't kill."_

_"…you don't kill for now. But accidents happen, Scott."_

_"I don't know who killed Duncan Matthews, but it wasn't Scott Summers."_

_"There's no life for me in Bayville anymore. I can't stay here, but I can't live in that hell of a prison anymore either. This is the only other option."_

_"The past is in the past, Scott. The invitation to come back will always stand."_

_"I don't believe for one second that you did this thing, Scott. I can't!"_

_"I've been waitin' a long time for this, Mut. Jus' stay still and it'll all be over real soon."_

_"I dare say there's not a mutant in this country that hasn't had the desire to wring the breath from your throat."_

_"An' if you happen to find Summers, tell him I'm sorry, an', if ya can, help him get his life back together. He deserves that much. I feel awful for what I did to him."_

The voices kept echoing as he arrived at home and went to bed. That night, Scott barely slept. He rolled over all night as memories came back to haunt him as dreams. In his sleep, the past came back to Scott as more than just voices. He could see the images now. His parents ordering him and Alex to jump from the plane. The ball of fire from the crash. The night of the murder. The confrontation with the X-Men. The night he was stabbed. The fight with Sonance. Scott only slept a couple hours, but in that time his mind managed to replay everything. He finally woke up covered in sweat at 6:00 in the morning. He was still tired, but couldn't make himself lay back down to sleep again. He didn't want to face the memories that he had tried for years to suppress. Finally, he moved to the den and turned on the TV. The news was on.

"Police found the body of District Attorney Robert Wicks early this morning in a warehouse near the river. It seems Mr. Wicks was killed by Sonance and Oculus, who have apparently joined forces. Neither masked man has been taken into custody, but police say they will not rest until the two are behind bars."

Scott turned the TV off again. He was shaking as he moved to the kitchen to get a drink. He sat down at his table with a cup of coffee in his hand. As he took a sip, his eyes fell on the stack of papers lying on the other end of the table. Scott's eyes lingered on them as he drank his coffee.

_"So you want me to find the real killer?"_

_"That's right. If you look in the top drawer of the filing cabinet over there, you'll find all the evidence I've got. It's just copies of the actual paperwork, but it's all there except for the physical evidence. Couldn't take that with me."_

* * *

An angry knock on Scott's door caused him to look up. He knew what that knock meant. Scott took a deep breath and walked over to answer the door.

"Hi Nate," said Scott without looking to see who was in the doorway.

"What have you done, Scott?"

"Come on in. You want some coffee?"

Nate stepped inside Scott's apartment and quickly shut the door.

"No coffee, Scott, and don't try to change the subject. Tell me what happened last night."

Scott sat down at the table again and took a sip of his own coffee. "I talked to Baker. He seemed glad to meet me. Gave me some papers to look at for him."

"I'm talking about Wicks, Scott. The newspaper says you killed him. That true?"

Scott looked straight into Nate's eyes.

"I've told you before. I don't kill."

"I'm not asking you what you've told me before. I'm asking you what happened last night." There was a clear anger on Nate's face and in his voice, but Scott wasn't worried about it. This would be the last of Nate's lectures to him.

"Wicks was Sonance, and he killed himself."

"Can you prove that?"

Scott took another drink of his coffee. "Probably, but I don't think it'd matter to you."

Nate sighed angrily. "Scott, I told you once that if you ever killed anyone, it would be over. I can't live with this on my conscience. I'm giving you five hours. At noon today, I'm calling the police and telling them everything."

"You're turning me in?" asked Scott, his demeanor very nonchalant.

"Yes, Scott. I'm turning you in. If you're smart, you'll leave here before I tell the police to raid your apartment."

Scott stood up and began walking towards his bedroom. "I'm already in the middle of packing my things, Nate. I'll be gone soon."

Nate followed Scott and stood in the doorway to his bedroom as Scott began folding a shirt on the bed.

"I don't think you understand everything I'm saying Scott. I'm going to tell them who you are. You'll be down in their books as a wanted murderer. And they won't be looking for Oculus. I'm going to tell them to look for Scott Fletcher."

With his back to Nate, Scott let a smile cross his lips. "Nate, you do what you need to do."

* * *

Nate arrived at his clinic at 8:00 in the morning. At 12:30 the day before, the Memphis police had raided the apartment next to Nate's based on information given to them by Nate. No one answered the door when they knocked. They yelled through the door that it was the police, but still no one came. Finally, they had kicked the door down and a team of 7 cops spilled into the room. There they had found nothing, only a bare apartment except for the furniture that came with the room. They searched the room extensively, but there was no sign of Oculus, who they know to be a man named Scott Fletcher. Investigators covered the apartment, but there were no fingerprints anywhere. It had clearly been wiped clean that very morning. The only evidence that Scott Fletcher had ever existed was a typed note lying next to the gold belts from Oculus' uniform on the dining table. The note simply read, "Wicks was Sonance. I only did what had to be done. –Oculus"

Now, as Nate slid his key into the locked door to his clinic, he knew that Oculus and Scott Fletcher represented a portion of his life that had passed and would never return. Honestly, Nate would be amazed if he ever saw Scott again. He didn't really want Scott arrested and taken to jail. But he simply couldn't allow Scott to hurt and kill other people. Nate reminded himself that he had done what he had to do to clear his conscience, which is exactly what Scott had told him to do. As Nate opened the door and stepped into his clinic, he heard the voice of a young girl behind him.

"Dr. Reynolds?"

Nate turned around. The girl was a teenager, probably no older than 16, and looked as though she'd lived on the streets for at least a year.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"Dr. Reynolds, my name is Vicki. Can I come inside and talk to you?"

"Sure," said Nate with a smile as he stepped back to let the girl inside. "What did you want to see me about?" he asked once the door was locked behind them. The clinic didn't actually open for another 30 minutes.

"Well," she said nervously, "I'm looking for a job and I saw your ad in the paper."

Nate had decided a week before to hire a second receptionist. He'd been running a small ad in the Classifieds ever since.

"Sure," he said. "The open job is a receptionist position. Do you have any experience with something like that?"

The girl's eyes shot to the floor. "I…no."

"What's wrong?" asked Nate. The question didn't seem like one that would cause such a strange reaction.

"I've never had a real job before. I ran away from home two years ago. I've made a lot of bad decisions, Dr. Reynolds, but I'm trying to do better. A few months ago I finally realized that all the mess in my life is my own fault. So I've spent the last few months fixing my problems. I'm really getting back on the right track, but I need a real job with steady money."

Nate was worried about the girl now. Maybe he couldn't hire her after all. "Do you have a drug history?"

"No. I never touched any drugs."

Nate breathed a sigh of relief. "Criminal history?"

Vicki's eyes darted to the ground again. "I spent…On the streets, it's not easy getting money. You can steal it, but I never was any good at that. Thanks to a string of bad boyfriends, I managed to convince myself that there was only one thing I was any good at. So I spent some time working as a prostitute. I promise though, Doctor, that I don't do that anymore. I quit a few months ago when I realized what was wrong with my life. That was the first thing I quit after that realization."

Nate wasn't sure what to do now. It seemed like Vicki was a good girl at heart, but her sordid history made Nate more than a little wary of hiring her.

"Can you tell me what caused you to realize your problems?" he asked.

Vicki smiled. "Yeah, you might not believe it though. There was this guy who changed my life with one sentence. Pretty much everyone hates him these days, but I wish I could meet him so I could personally thank him for what he did for me. I was getting attacked by…well, he was a pimp. All of a sudden, Oculus came out of no where and grabbed him."

She definitely had Nate's attention now. Had Oculus actually been the guy who changed the girl's life so much? Nate listened closely as Vicki continued her story.

"He beat Billy up real bad and threw him to the ground. Then he pulled a wad of money out of Billy's jacked and gave it to me. But here's the part that changed my life. He talked to me. He looked into my eyes and said, 'You can do better, Vicki.' I don't know how he knew my name, but he did. And the way he said that sentence, it was like he knew me! It was like he knew everything about me and honestly believed I could do better. I ran away right after that, but I can still hear that voice when I go to sleep. It's like he's in my head now, always reminding me of what I can be if I only try. It wasn't long before I started believing it too. Just two weeks after that night, I made the decision to clean up my life and I've been working on that goal ever since. I don't know who Oculus really was, but I like to think he was an angel sent to this city to save people like me from themselves. I know he saved me."

The story both touched and hurt Nate. On the one hand, it was incredible to hear about what kind of good Oculus had done for the people of Memphis. But on the other hand, Nate had run Oculus away from the city just 24 hours before. Not for the first time, Nate began to wonder if he'd really done the right thing.

"So," said the girl, "do you think you can help me get back on the right track? I promise I'll work as hard as I can."

Nate smiled. Scott was the man who had begun to change the girl's life, but Nate was the man who could help her finish the transition.

"Can you start today?"


	19. How It Ends

Wow, has it really been this long? I am so sorry. That's really all I can say to those of you who have followed "Scott Summers: Murderer?" for so long. Those of you who were reading from the beginning know that I've endured my fair share of troubles in writing this story. I've faced everything from two computer crashes to writer's block to simply not having enough time. And, I am sad to report, that the time issue has finally won. Okay, technically it won months ago. I meant to post this note a long time ago, but once again, time slips away. Despite what I always intended and what I really want to do, I simply do not have the time to finish writing this story. I hate that, but life is hectic and my grades and relationships have a higher priority than writing a fanfic. However, I will not leave you, my fans, in suspense any longer. I may not be finishing this story, but I will tell you how it ends (finally).

First, obviously the very next thing that would have happened in the plot was that Scott would return to Bayville. After a lot of soul-searching, he decides to go to the Xavier Institute and reunite with the X-Men, although not as a team member. Back in the X-Mansion, Scott would find a few troubling situations. First, Kurt will be leaving the X-Men to attend Seminary School in a few short months in order to become a priest. It doesn't take Scott long to realize how alienated Kurt seems from the rest of the X-Men. He eventually learns from Rogue that it was only a matter of weeks after Scott's departure that Kurt learned the identity of his true mother, Mystique. This new information, coupled with the loss of his best friend, drove Kurt into a deep depression that Rogue doesn't believe he ever fully recovered from. Despite this, Kurt was now the oldest boy on the X-Men and therefore became a sort of co-team leader along with Jean. Kurt took these responsibilities very seriously. So seriously, in fact, that soon his relationships with the other X-Men began to drift apart, leaving Kurt more and more alone and depressed. This confuses Scott, since Kurt seems to be acting the same as he always did when Scott had known him before. But according to Rogue, Scott's return has caused a change in Kurt's disposition and the smile that Kurt wears now is the first one he has worn in years.

But before Scott has time to talk to Kurt about whatever might be happening in his life, he runs into Jean. He is immediately reminded of his feelings for her and suddenly realizes that now might be his chance to finally share those feelings for Jean. He begins to talk to her and, after a long conversation, admits his feelings to her. He tells Jean that it was his thoughts and memories of her that helped him survive the first few years on his own. At this point, Jean breaks down into tears. Confused, Scott takes her hand in an attempt to comfort her. That is when he realizes what's wrong. On Jean's finger, he can feel something he wasn't expecting. He lifts his hand to make sure, and there finds an engagement ring. Jean explains that over the last three years, she has grown closer and closer to Logan and the two are planning to be married in just a matter of months. Scott is distressed by the news and spends about a week in one of the deepest depressions of his life, though he refuses to let anyone see it. At the end of that week, Logan returns from his mission in Europe and, for the first time, Scott is able to see the relationship between he and Jean. In watching them, he realizes four things. First, Logan and Jean are in love with one another. Second, Jean seems happier with Logan than he's ever seen her before. Third, he doesn't know Jean anymore. He hasn't seen her in nearly nine years and knows nothing about her life aside from what she was like as an 18 year old high school girl. Finally, he realizes that there are consequences we all have to face for our actions. Nine years ago, Scott ran away from his problems hoping they would disappear along with his identity. Now he comes to realize that had he stayed, he might have had a chance with Jean at some point. Now, he never will. But he eventually comes to accept this as he sees how happy she truly is with Logan.

But while those little subplots are fun and interesting, the question all of you want answered is, "did Scott kill Duncan?" Well, shortly after his return to Bayville, Scott tells the X-Men that he is innocent and has returned to find the real killer. He begins an intense search into the past, but soon finds all the trails cold. Kurt begins helping Scott investigate and adds some interesting evidence that he found years ago after Scott left town. Included in this evidence is a particularly interesting bit of information. The 911 call made from the mansion was not exactly what it seemed. Duncan's voice never actually answers or even acknowledges the 911 operator. Kurt and Scott decide that the murder must have been recorded on a tape by the murderer, and then the 911 call was placed as Scott pulled into the driveway, possibly hours after the murder actually took place.

Here is where I must apologize to my readers once more. I haven't had this story on my mind in almost a year. As a result, I've forgotten a lot of what I planned to do with the rest of the story. Unfortunately, I never wrote a very detailed plot for myself. I had it all in my head. At any rate, Kurt and Scott begin feverishly looking for the real murderer. Finally, after months of investigation, they find the person they're looking for. I'm a little embarrassed that so many of you guessed correctly. It was, in fact, Mystique who killed Duncan Matthews. However, nobody ever guessed Mystique's motives. She murdered Duncan in order to frame Scott and separate him from the X-Men. This all comes down to revenge. Mystique was exacting revenge on both Scott and Xavier. Keep in mind that I said in the first chapter that the story started out during the first season of the show. That season started with Rogue joining the Brotherhood, but eventually deciding she'd rather be an X-Man. According to this fic, Mystique blames Scott and Xavier for this. I shouldn't have to explain why she blames Xavier. The reason she blames Scott is that she is aware of Rogue's strong crush on Scott and believes Rogue's feelings for him to have played a large part in her switching sides. (Season 1 featured an unspoken, but very obvious crush on Scott on Rogue's part.) By killing Duncan, Mystique was able to essentially ruin Scott's life and steal Xavier's favorite student.

But the question remains, how did Mystique do it? Without going into tons of detail, she overheard Scott threaten Duncan outside her office. She immediately consulted Destiny, who told her about the coincidences that would be happening that evening. Scott did leave the mansion of his own accord, and purchased the handgun with the thought of killing Duncan on his mind. Mystique, thanks to Destiny, knew he would be buying this handgun. She posed as the gun shop owner and sold the gun to Scott, then immediately left the gun shop with an identical model as the gun Scott just purchased. While Scott drove around Bayville seriously contemplating actually killing Duncan, Mystique went straight to the mansion, called Duncan while claiming to be Jean, and asked him to come over. When Duncan arrived, he found "Scott" there waiting to kill him. Mystique intentionally let him run through the mansion frantically before cornering him in the room where she had left the tape recorder, then came in to kill him. Sure, Mystique could have killed Duncan and then called 911 and mimicked his voice, but she wanted to make sure Duncan's voice in the 911 call sounded sufficiently terrified. She threw the murder weapon out the window. Then, when Scott arrived, Mystique slipped into his car and stole the gun Scott had bought so that he couldn't prove the murder weapon was not his.

So the only unanswered question I can think of that's left is "why did Scott take the rap for Duncan's murder when he knew he was innocent?" Basically, Scott knew he hadn't killed Duncan, but he felt responsible anyway. He had seriously considered murdering Duncan and bought that gun with every intention of doing so. After driving around town for a while, Scott parked his car across the street from Duncan's house (after Duncan had left for the mansion) and sat looking at the house for an hour while he struggled internally with whether to kill Duncan or not. There was a period of time while Scott was in prison that he began to doubt his own innocence. He began to wonder if he had simply blocked out the memory of killing Duncan subconsciously, but ultimately realized he was innocent. But he still felt so stained by the guilt of considering murder that he decided he could never be an X-Man again because, in his mind, he had failed the Professor and everything the X-Men stood for.

After discovering the true killer, the Scott and the X-Men hunt down Mystique and bring her to justice by turning her over to the Bayville Police. Scott is cleared of all charges, but ultimately decides he can't stay with the X-Men. He agrees to be a part-time X-Man, but leaves Bayville before Mystique's trial. He readopts the name Oculus and vows to protect the innocent around the world.

So that's where this story was headed. Again, I'm very very very sorry for not finishing a story that I swore I would finish. Hopefully you can all forgive me.

-stAte


End file.
